Tempered Will
by Rydain
Summary: How did an unruly teenage boy grow up into one of Wei's greatest commanders? In tumultuous times, Cao Ren sorts himself out to take a stand against chaos. A close historical look at the army Ren raised to begin his military career. Under revision.
1. Trouble and tedium

_How did an unruly teenage boy grow up into one of Wei's greatest commanders? In tumultuous times, Cao Ren sorts himself out to take a stand against chaos._

_A historical tale of first steps toward military leadership, based on a broad survey of research about Han Dynasty culture. Sources include the Scholars of Shen Zhou, China History Forum, Rafe de Crespigny's work, free English translations of classical Chinese texts, and other reputable online resources. Special thanks goes out to the friends who helped me with all manner of brainstorming about ad hoc militias. _

_Cao Ren and his fellow clansmen are historical figures, characterized from their Sanguozhi biographies with some inspiration from fitting portrayals in other Three Kingdoms media. All other characters are fictional. _

_Critique is welcomed and encouraged, especially with regard to historical plausibility. _

_Rated T for coarse language and violence in the context of war._

* * *

_Cao Ren crept through the wilds of Pei in pursuit of whatever quarry he might find. Even if he took nothing home for the stew pot, a morning in such desolate splendor was time well spent. Distant mountains rose craggy and mist-shrouded against the pewter sky. A cool breeze touched his face, swishing through the towering pines and the shrubbery that served as his cover. It had rained the night before, and the earth smelled fresh and green and new._

_His eye caught a telltale rustle in the scrub growing thick at the clearing's edge. Ren notched an arrow and raised his bow, well ahead of the pheasant about to amble away from safety to peck for stray seed. His pull was taut, his aim true -_

- and a scrubbing brush sailed out of the clouds and thumped him square in the chest. The vast and heady wilderness became an austere hall in the Confucian academy where Ren had been cooped up all morning. Rather than a bow, he held a brush with a habit of blotting regardless of what care he took with his stroke. His quiver was a stack of bamboo sheets marked with utilitarian calligraphy. And the pheasant? Master Pan, his thin and pointed face even more pinched than usual.

The teacher glared at Ren as if peering into his thoughts. "And what were we dreaming of today? Troublemaking? Lollygagging? A lovely young lady, perhaps?"

"The field, master."

"How is it that you have such patience for the hunt and so little for the classroom?"

"When game appears, I shoot it. Doing the same to master would be unthinkable."

Giggles escaped from a few students around the room, who swallowed their amusement before Master Pan could turn his hawk eye upon them.

"Order!" the teacher barked, still focused on his daydreaming pupil. "How unsurprising that your mouth is as flighty as your mind. Remind us all of a better example."

Ren sat up straight, ignoring the insult and the dust mark that the scrubbing brush had left on his _yi_. "_Ken_ is signified by two mountains standing together. It means to stay still when called for and go forward when necessary. Take consideration before moving. Keep thoughts and words in order." Tempted to add a remark about his obvious deficiency at the last part, Ren bit his tongue instead. There was no sense in digging himself into a deeper hole by flouting wisdom with a wisecrack.

"And how does the Book of Changes instruct the superior man to achieve this?"

"In terms of control over his body." Ren took a breath. "Six at the beginning means keeping his calves- his toes still. He cannot rescue him who he follows."

The line made sense - people used their feet to walk, after all - but it seemed off. Master Pan shook his head, confirming that Ren had misspoken.

"Six at the beginning means keeping his toes still."

Ren's face became as red as his clothing. Copied countless times during detention, the wisdom of _ken _had once been a freshly inked book hung on the wall of his mind. Ren had even recited it in his sleep, mumbling himself awake from a dream about a strange school taught by a fox spirit in the mulberry grove. The phrases now lay scattered in a mess of unbound slats as Master Pan watched him scramble to put them all back in order.

Ren flicked his eyes to the right where brother Chun knelt as poised and unmoving as the lion statues guarding the family estate. Perhaps Chun, who could retell the entire Book of Changes backwards while standing on his head, would take pity on Ren and prompt him.

Perhaps not. Chun kept his stony silence, leaving Ren to flail after those elusive words as Master Pan eyed him for several long moments.

At last, the teacher waved a dismissive hand. "It is irrelevant. Even if you did know the text, you certainly have not learned it. Stay after class."

Then it was back to the hypnotic boredom of Master Pan's dry and droning monologue. Ren put brush to bamboo as if his strokes were fishnets to capture the words, reins to keep his focus from drifting back out the open window.

* * *

_Mountains standing close together  
The image of keeping still.  
Thus the superior man  
Does not permit his thoughts  
To go beyond his situation.  
_  
Character after character, line after line, stroke after tedious brush stroke. Over and over, Cao Ren inked the terse wisdom of ancient philosophers. Master Pan wandered by now and then to glance at the growing stack of copies beside his desk, offering no feedback other than an occasional sniff of apparent satisfaction.

After Ren covered several more sheets with no sign of the teacher's presence, he set his pen down for a break. He unfolded his legs into a more comfortable pose and stretched his hands as the afternoon's work marched in imagined columns across his bleary eyes. A small voice reminded him that success at school just might come down to this sort of brute force. Ren could always copy on his own time instead of being stuck in this room as the clouds broke and the afternoon sun beamed bright through the open windows. Yet he struggled to focus with forests and fellows out there and waiting for him, especially because such effort was required for results that came easily to others. Brother Chun soaked up verses as a parched plant took in water. Compared with his scholarly twin, Ren had a head full of rocks upon which such knowledge had to be engraved - stroke after tedious brush stroke.

A sharp tug on the topknot and an accompanying admonition reminded Ren that Master Pan was, as usual, one step ahead. "Dawdling merely delays the inevitable."

"Yes, Master." Ren's first order to copy texts after class had become a futile attempt to outlast the teacher's patience. He had sat cross-armed at the low desk with a blank sheet of bamboo in front of him and the ink left unprepared nearby. Master Pan had waited without concern or comment, taking no action at all other than fetching an oil lamp for each of them at sundown. Only then had Ren picked up his brush and begun what he could have finished a long while before. After all had been said and done, he had arrived home well past his usual sleeping hour to a dark house and a box of leftover barley and vegetables congealed into an unappetizing brick.

"As does distraction." Master Pan inspected the pile of copies with an impressed harrumph. "Yet that did not get the better of you just now. It appears that some inkling of _ken_ sank into your skull."

Of course, the teacher's rare compliment would have to be wrapped in condescension.

"Continue this study on your own time if you are up to the responsibility. And if you are not -" Master Pan brandished the scrubbing brush. "The walkways around here could use a thorough cleaning."

What sort of a threat was that? Scrubbing was no more hand-numbing than writing. It let Ren catch some fresh air among the greenery of the school courtyards. And none of it had to be repeated word for word later on.

The teacher's eyes bored into Ren like slitted coals. "Every last one of them."

So much for that lesser of two evils. The brick paths in question ran all over the sprawling academy grounds, bordering buildings and connecting pavilions and winding their way through the gardens. Washing every _chi _of such would have Ren eating his dinner cold for the better part of next month. By the time he finished up, the walkways he had cleaned first would have become dirty again - and still his responsibility to take care of.

"You may leave now. I trust that you will consider your choices."

"Yes, master."

Ren bowed, collected his belongings, and hurried out of the classroom, his heart heavy with gathering dread. Master Pan's ultimatum went well beyond the evenings of chores or copying brought on by his typical misbehavior. Long-term drudgery was reserved for more serious infractions, such as the brawl that had earned its participants a vacation from class to labor alongside the academy's servants. Over the following month, Ren had seen an occasional miscreant painting a roof in the hot sun, crawling deep into a garden to pick some errant weed, or glowering under a load of lumber. A few had served their time and returned to their studies with proper humility. Others had dropped out, well behind their classmates without a prayer of catching up on the missed schoolwork.

Though not in danger of such banishment, Ren was still sinking rather than treading water. And Mother would be none too happy if he came home late again due to detention.

Ren left the academy and hit the road running with a silent prayer that he would make it home for dinner.

* * *

Book of Changes - Also known as the _I Ching_, this classical text describes a fundamental ancient Chinese philosophy and worldview. It is one of the Five Classics studied by Confucian students in Han China.  
_  
ken_ - I Ching hexagram about achieving a quiet heart. This includes disciplinary advice such as refraining from distraction and thinking before speaking.  
_  
yi_ - A wrap-style Han Chinese upper garment with an open front, crossed collar, and wide sleeves.

Some sources list Cao Chun as two years younger than Cao Ren. According to the _Biographical Dictionary of Later Han to the Three Kingdoms_, the brothers are twins.


	2. Home for dinner

Apart from the ever-present lions at the front gate, no one was around to witness Cao Ren's mad dash home. Servants would oftentimes be out sweeping the paths or tending to the grounds. Today, the yards were deserted.

Ren veered right and cut through a garden, darting across the rock formations that had been sunk into the earth when the estate was built. A rarely traveled path behind the east wing led him to an even less-used door that blended into the building's outer wall. Ren crept inside and down the hall to his chambers, where the clock was fast approaching dinner hour.

He had made it back without being spotted and with time to spare. Perhaps Heaven was smiling after all.

Ren shed his sweaty clothing into the laundry basket. He wiped off with cool water, changed into clean attire, and smoothed the flyaway hair back into his topknot. A survey of the results had the broad face in the mirror grinning back at him. By all appearances, Ren had gone straight home at the usual time. If his brother kept matters to himself, no one would be the wiser.

Chun's discretion could go either way, but there was no chance to talk him into staying quiet. Chimes rang throughout the house, summoning Ren to join his family for the evening meal.

* * *

Dinner was served in Mother's apartments as usual. The estate's dining room was a cavernous hall reserved for the entertainment of guests. Considering it to be too formal for their small family, Mother preferred to take meals in a cozier setting.

As did Cao Ren. The dark, imposing polish of the dining room made him feel that he was slouching or shoveling food or about to drop his chopsticks in some spectacularly messy way. Mother's chambers were comfortable and friendly. The three of them sat around a square table lacquered with exotic birds soaring among swirls of cloud. Painted silk panels hung in front of the windows, catching the light to set off elegant brushwork of bamboo and flowers.

Maidservants brought in vegetable soup, boxes of steamed fish over millet, and the usual assortment of seasonings and pickled sides. Once the food had been laid out, the tea poured, and the standard pleasantries exchanged, Mother turned to Ren for her typical inquiry about the day's classwork.

Chun talked about school in long and excited rambles that sometimes went on until Ren was chasing the last bits of dinner around the bottom of his dish. After spending most of his day hearing about history and philosophy in more detail than he would ever need to know, Ren saw no appeal in repeating the discussion at home. His reports were brief and to the point, about overall meaning rather than a scroll full of specifics. Mother gave both of them turns to say their piece, and her fairness was even more welcome today.

"We learned more about the order that rites are supposed to follow," Ren said. "The earth supports all sorts of plants and animals because Heaven meant for it to be productive. We base our rules on nature so they will do the same for the people. Our ceremonies change with the seasons, as does the government. The Book goes on at length about what the leadership should do in each month. They take care of dams and ditches just before the rainy season. They plan out the crops in the winter so there is time to prepare for planting. And so on, as Master explained."

Chun smirked. "You forgot to mention your private tutoring."

Ren clenched his chopsticks and settled for stabbing his brother with a glare instead. Mother's gaze fell on him like weight.

"Please elaborate."

Flushing under that patient stare, Ren dropped his eyes to dinner and blurted out the truth. "I had to stay late to copy the wisdom of _ken_."

"Again?"

Ren poked at a slice of fish, which picked the perfect time to elude his attempts at grabbing it.

"What would your father say?"

The question was a punch in the gut. Cao Chi had served the Empire with distinction, both as a palace attendant and a highly ranked leader of cavalry. As the elder son, Ren was to follow in his footsteps, to be a proper head of the household left behind when illness had taken Father away from them. His titles could only belong to one brother, awarded by recommendation after their schooling had run its course. How could Ren compete when Chun - savant, scholar, snitch - fretted over his own suitability?

A small and shameful part of him wanted to point its cruel finger down the hall, to suggest that Mother go over there and ask him herself. To dig its claws into a woman who had mourned three years and still visited the family shrine with tears in her stoic eyes. Who stood by her husband's tablet with bowed head and a brazier of incense, offering ashes to the earth and sacred scent to the heavens above. Who regarded Ren with measured concern and deserved the same in response.

"When I fell from the horse, he would pick me up and tell me to try again." Ren met Mother's eyes, swallowing to keep the quaver out of his words. "He would say the same about school. I might fall, but I'm not about to quit."

"Will you have that choice if you cannot stay on at all?"

"But I am staying on!" Ren brought his rising voice back under control. "I told you what we learned today. I can tell you what we learned the month before. When's the last time I had no answer when you asked about my classwork?"

"A while ago," Mother acknowledged. "Still, education is about self-improvement, not mere familiarity with the classics. You are meant to apply that knowledge toward your own thoughts and behavior. Only then are you truly learning."

Chun proudly drew back his shoulders until he received a reprimand. "That goes for you as well. Practice _ch'ien _instead of preaching. As to you-" Mother turned to Ren. "Come straight home each day to focus on your schoolwork, and stay there until I receive a report of improvement from Master Pan. Your time off will be spent with your books. No riding. No shooting. No further distractions."

Ren's stomach sank into the floor. "Yes, Mother."

On a different day, he might already be formulating a plan to sneak out of the house. This was another situation entirely. Mother had a commander's rule of the estate staff. From her most trusted assistants to those who had just signed on for the simplest sort of work, each and every servant acted as her eyes and ears. The stable hands would exercise Thunder Cloud themselves, forbidding Ren to even take his horse for a quick walk through town. Missing arrows would be noted, same as any mysterious game left in the kitchen as a gift for the staff. And the gardeners and maids would do double duty as lookouts. Ren had nowhere to go without being caught, and further punishment would be a steep price to pay for an odd hour of freedom.

Dinner had lost its flavor, and a few good shakes of soy sauce and spice did nothing to improve it. Ren finished the rest of his meal with mechanical tedium, just as he would be slogging through his studies for the interminable future.

* * *

Cao Ren references the _Li Ki_, another of the Five Classics. Also known as the Book of Rites, this text describes all manner of rules and customs in great detail. Today's classwork took some inspiration from Book IV, which lists the proceedings of government in each month, and Book VII, which pertains to the development and intention of ceremony.

Three years' mourning was the prescribed period for the death of a close relative.

The center of a traditional Han Chinese home contained a shrine for deities and ancestors, with tablets displaying the names and lifespans of the deceased. Ancestor veneration was a cornerstone of Confucian filial piety.

_ch'ien_ - I Ching hexagram about modesty. Among its advice is to set a responsible example rather than boast of one's superiority.


	3. A brotherly chat

_By the shores of that lagoon,  
Where the water-lily lies,  
Where the tall valerians rise  
Slender as the crescent moon,  
Goes Hëa Nan…Ah, Hëa Nan,  
Sleep brings me no relief:  
My heart is full of grief._

_By the shores of that lagoon,  
Where the drowsy lotus lies,  
Where the tall valerians rise  
Brighter than the orbèd moon,  
Shines Hëa Nan…Ah, Hëa Nan,  
I turn and turn all night,  
And dawn brings no respite._

Cao Chun relaxed on his bed, a pile of pillows at his back and a tome of poetry in hand. Its verses took wing in the night air wafting through his window, spiriting him far away beneath an indigo sky. Flowers bloomed wild and fragrant among the tall grass at the water's edge. The lady herself, an ethereal vision in robes of rich silk, knelt by the lake as if to touch the mirrored moon.

A kick to the mattress jumbled the moon's reflection and sent the rest of the landscape scattering along with it. The source of this interruption was Ren, who had slipped into the room without so much as a whisper of stocking foot on floor mat.

"Thanks for nothing."

"You'll thank me later."

"For what?" Ren plopped down on the foot of the bed. "Being shut up in here whenever I'm not in school?"

"If that's what it takes."

They sat for a few long moments, regarding each other in a span of silence that may as well have been the distance between planets. The brothers shared aquiline features and the slender, contemplative eyes of their mother. Yet Ren was drawn in thicker strokes, from the arch of his brows to the breadth of his nose and jaw. Strong and sturdy in body and mind, at times he seemed to be hewed from stone. One might think to label Chun as the brains and Ren as the brawn, but this would be unfair. Ren had more academic ability than he realized, if only he would apply his stubbornness to studying instead of allowing it to get in the way. To that end, Chun thought to give him a bit of sympathy. Further judgment would simply be met with more obstinance.

"How did it go today?"

"Master seemed happy with my copying. Then he threatened me with scrubbing duty if I don't learn my wisdom well enough." Ren sighed. "As in all of the walkways. Myself."

Which would, of course, keep Ren busy after school for the rest of the spring. This sort of discipline seemed oddly specific if one was not aware of the teacher's intent.

"That's not just a punishment. It's a point."

Ren smirked. "That school is drudgery no matter what? I knew that."

Chun shook his head with a sigh. "The point is that scholarship is an ongoing process, something you need to work at every day. If you bathe once, will you stay clean for the next month?"

"No." Ren winced. "I'd smell like the garbage heap."

"Then why do you think classwork is any different?"

"It looks easy for you."

"It can be," Chun admitted. "Yet it's not always that simple."

Since childhood, Chun had displayed a talent for all things literary. He would act out the part of the hero whenever Mother retold a favorite story at bedtime. When the brothers learned to read, Chun memorized stories and poems without trying. Academy coursework introduced more advanced subjects, which he developed a way of outlining for review. This was still a far cry from stuffing each passage into his head, one laborious word at a time. Perhaps Chun would be less inclined toward scholarship if it required such tedium.

He might see it more like archery. Whether grounded or mounted, Ren shot with lethal accuracy. Chun was lucky to count an afternoon's worth of perfect marks on both hands. Sometimes he drew and fired with a fluidity close to his brother's, leaving him in high spirits for the next practice. On other days, Chun returned to the field only to surround the target with a bristled halo of missed shots and a lonely arrow or two hanging off the edge as a consolation prize. Ren had given him some pointers, which were responsible for much of his occasional success. Practice made perfect, but coaching revealed problems that Chun had no way of seeing on his own. When had Chun last offered similar advice on the topic of school?

"I can help if you'd like."

Ren snorted. "You mean you can stand over my shoulder and wonder why I'm not done yet?"

Chun flushed, remembering that particular exercise in frustration for them both. Small wonder that he and Ren had not bothered to discuss schoolwork since. "I mean I can teach you how to study."

"Perhaps." Ren shrugged. "I doubt you can do much for me, though."

He got up and walked off, unbending as usual until Chun called out. Forcing Ren to listen was about as unlikely as beating him in a wrestling match, but an open door and a willing ear might encourage a change of heart.

"Brother."

Ren paused to look back at him.

"If you wish to talk, I'm here."

* * *

The featured poem is "Lady of the Lagoon" from the Book of Odes (_Shi Jing_), a classic of poetry. Its English translation was cited from _The Book of Odes_ by L. Cranmer-Byng.


	4. Frustration and temptation

Cao Ren dropped the Book of Rites on his bed with a sigh. Stand here. Look there. Offer this. Receive that. Track down everyone who felt the need to fuss over this silly trivia, and kick them. Hard.

It was sensible to defer to superiors, make guests feel at home, and respect the host and their household while visiting. At some point, the details of etiquette crossed over from advice into absurdity. Why should there be a right way and a wrong way to turn the head of a bird given as an introductory gift? Meat was meat, after all, and even better when delivered free of charge or effort.

Strutting around the classroom like a peacock from the emperor's palace, Master Pan had introduced the advanced rules of propriety with a lofty speech about boys becoming men. If this was what it took, Ren was in no hurry to get there. He would have to get there eventually, and growing up did have its merits. Adulthood brought a wife's companionship - and the embrace of her smooth hands at night, which drew a fierce flush when Ren dared to consider it. But it also involved a heap of tedium that was difficult to look past when mired in it up to the knees.

At least Ren had been getting somewhere. The lack of distraction admittedly served its purpose, leaving him with little to do but bury himself in books. More often than not, wisdom stayed in his head where he put it. Even the infamous _ken_ had not troubled Ren since the afternoon that had dropped him in this predicament. He had been holding onto the proverbial horse, wondering if he could bring it up to a trot on the way out of the woods. Now Ren feared that a low-hanging branch was about to pop out of nowhere. The fiddly details of etiquette were tricky enough to keep straight with the Book of Rites in front of him. How on earth would he know them by heart? Master Pan had not yet called on Ren to recite some obscurity or another, but his luck could not last forever. And when it ran out, so much for that report of improvement.

The air was fragrant with the scent of peach blossoms, the sun bright on the trees by Ren's window. Bright over the meadow where a creek wound its way through the lush grass. Where Ren ought to be hollering, roughhousing, free as the birds chattering to each other in the courtyards of the estate.

Cao Hong had caught up to Ren on the way out of school. A distant cousin, Hong was a year younger and a few fingers shorter with an attitude to make up for it. His back talk landed him in detention on a regular basis. Luckily for Hong, he had a quick mind for classwork as well as insults. And an instructor willing to let insolence slide, especially in light of generous contributions from his family.

Hong took out a box of prunes and popped one into his mouth. As usual, he did not offer to share. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Studying."

Hong snorted. "You study? Since when?"

"Since last month when I didn't have much choice otherwise." Ren sighed. "I'll be back out as soon as I can. Do you think I like being stuck at home with my nose in a book?"

"I don't know." Hong ate another prune. "It sounds to me like you're turning into your brother. Pretty soon you'll be writing a poem every time you take a shit."

Ren shoved Hong, jostling him. "Shut it."

Hong returned the favor without much success. "Lighten up."

The academy road passed by a crowded square lined with merchants' stalls. On some other day, Ren would have stopped for a snack and a long look at anything that caught his eye. Horse tack, hunting gear, perhaps an occasional girl - though Hong might elbow him for admiring a saddle instead of an elegant beauty perusing the fabric selection at a nearby shop. This afternoon left no opportunity to dawdle. When Hong motioned for Ren to follow, he shook his head in response.

"I told you. As soon as I can."

"That's not soon enough." Hong smirked. "Go on and miss out. I'll be off having fun."

The remains of Ren's focus slipped away under thoughts of just what he was missing. Chun never understood the appeal of being out and about with no one in charge, and Ren had no good way to explain it. Perhaps he and his friends were not dealing with any matters of great importance. Perhaps they spent entire evenings loitering in the marketplace or wandering along well-traveled paths with an occasional jibe to break the silence. And perhaps a loud mouth might be answered with fists for crossing the line between merriment and mud-slinging. But the skies were wide, the forests deep, and the inevitable scuffle a squall to run its course and blow over before the next day.

At the moment, Ren's sole companion was this musty old book - only good for the dull sort of trouble. He could rest his eyes with a walk around the courtyards, a cup of tea taken out on the pavilion, a visit to the stable to give Thunder Cloud a treat. But that was still within the estate walls and the gaze of Mother and her staff, where Ren would remain anyhow if his schoolwork continued to vex him. An afternoon of poring over the Rules of Propriety had been about as useful as trying to memorize every rock and plant and flower in the gardens outside. Outside, where that long-awaited hour of freedom called to him in its irresistible voice.

The window was a short drop to the walkway below. Ren waited for a few moments, ensuring that the coast stayed clear. Just as he put a knee up on the ledge, the swishing sound of a broom approached. Ren got back inside before the groundskeeper could turn a corner and spot him.

Maybe the most straightforward route would be the stealthiest way to go. Ren shuffled down the hall with the guileless languor typical of an ordinary break from his work. At the end of the corridor, he wheeled around and hurried back the way he came. A maid had been talking with Jade Blossom, a close friend of Mother's who had served the family since Ren and Chun were just beginning to learn the words on their toy blocks. With eagle eyes to rival Master Pan's, Jade Blossom would know that Ren was up to something even before he could stammer a poorly veiled alibi.

Or maybe Ren ought to take the path that he had been avoiding this entire time. After a detour to pick up the dreaded text, he headed down a different hallway. Brute force was failing him. Perhaps Chun could help after all.

* * *

The Rules of Propriety are listed in Book I of the _Li Ki_.


	5. Out and about at last

"Well, well, well!" Cao Hong felt the need to bray right into Ren's ear. "Look who finally decided to show his face."

Ren grinned. "Told you I'd be back, cousin."

He had slogged through the muck and emerged in the meadow. Chun had kept his end of the offer, helping Ren to make notes that he could study instead of beating his head on whole sections of text. Though the Rules of Propriety still seemed like a stuffy load of nonsense, they were easier to grasp when boiled down to short phrases and concepts. Master Pan had kept the scrubbing brush at his side, waving it at Ren whenever he gave the slightest indication of drifting off. The brush appeared less and less as the days passed by. At last it went away for good, replaced by the incentive Ren had been awaiting - a cord-bound note, which the teacher indicated with raised brows rather than narrowed eyes. The day before, that note had gone home with Ren and sent his troubles packing.

And now Ren sprawled on the bank of the creek with clear skies overhead and freedom all around. Yu splashed near the shore, stabbing at fish with a pointed stick. All he ever caught was laughter from the others when his frustration erupted into a string of curses and he flung the stick into the icy water. Teng had swiped a flask of wine. It might last the afternoon, or it might all go down Gai's gullet if he had the chance to take more than his fair share. Though this habit sent Gai on an occasional green-faced sprint to the bushes, it never seemed to put him off from the drink.

Gai had met up with another group on the way over. Some, like him, wore rough clothing smudged with farm dirt. Others dressed in the finer attire of academy students. They all ran their mouths as if trying to outdo each other. A schoolboy with a piggish face and demeanor to match was boasting about the previous night's escapades. As if the details of a woman's pleasure needed further elaboration, he added crude gestures of embellishment as the story dragged on.

Teng whistled. "You sure got busy."

"Damn straight." Braggart smirked. "Amazing what trash like that will do for a few coins."

Ren shot him a look. "If she's trash, what does that make you?"

"It makes me a man. When's the last time you got laid?"

Gai snorted. "When's the last time you didn't have to pay for it?"

Braggart reddened, wandering off to watch Yu flail at the fish as if the boy could catch him a retort as well. The others passed the flask and moved onto other topics of conversation. Teng's wine was weak and bitter, but Ren drank a deep draught of it anyway. It tasted of the sun, of the wind, of a day that stretched long and slow ahead of him.

A shadow fell across their circle, and a large and familiar hand reached down for the wine flask. Said hand belonged to Haoqiang, who towered over them with the usual glare. His given name was unknown to them, but his moniker served the purpose well enough. Haoqiang tore off the sleeves of his _yi_ to showcase his bulging arm muscles. His eyes were hard and piercing, his mouth always on the verge of curling back in a sneer. Haoqiang was a force of nature like any other, a lowering cloud that flared up now and then to remind the world of his existence. A gale to blow through, taking whatever he wished along the way.

Hong turned over the wine. His one and only refusal of Haoqiang's demands had sent him home with a torn collar, a black eye, and threats of worse punishment for the next infraction.

Haoqiang drained the flask in one long swallow before throwing it to the ground. "Tastes like horse piss," he proclaimed, looking around as if daring someone to ask whether he knew this from personal experience. Receiving no response, he sauntered off into the woods.

One of Gai's acquaintances turned to him. "Friend of yours?"

"No, just some asshole."

Braggart had returned to the group. "He's worse than that."

The others waited for him to continue.

"I was over at this whore- this girl's house for the usual. So I'm going at it, going to town, you know how that goes."

Hong threw a chunk of dirt at him. "Get to the point."

"So it's all going fine and then someone starts pounding on the door. Banging like they're trying to tear it down. She shoves me off and tells me to hide. I don't ask questions. I don't even stop to put my pants back on. So I'm bare-assed behind this barrel in the corner and the door slams right off the hinges. And guess who comes stomping in.

"He takes one look at her and just goes off. 'You were at it. I knew it. So where the hell is my money?' She won't give him any, so he smacks her right in the face. He picks up my pants and looks around the room. 'He's still here, isn't he? Then I'll beat it out of him myself.'

"And just like that, he's tearing the place apart. Cussing, yelling, shit flying everywhere. He gets over to that barrel, and I just know I'm dead meat. So he starts to pick it up. Right before he sees me, the girl runs outside. He goes after her and I go off in the other direction." Braggart indicated his pants with a laugh. "And I even got these back on the way out."

Some of the boys gawped, impressed with this escape from mortal danger. Ren raised an eyebrow. "You didn't help her?"

"Like you're any better. You just sat there while he took that wine."

"You compare a girl to a flask of wine?"

Braggart guffawed. "They cost about the same, don't they?"

Rage spiked hot in Ren's chest, and he bit back the urge to squash the coward's face in even further. No sense in earning another stint of confinement for coming home with grass stains, popped seams, and some telltale scrapes and bruises. Then Gai sprung into action himself, tackling a shocked Braggart to the ground. Though taller and heavier, Braggart was no match for Gai's wiry strength and the simple advantage of surprise. A brief scuffle forced him into some painful contortion, hollering to surrender. Not quite satisfied, Gai wrested a few more yells out of Braggart before letting him up.

Gai regarded his opponent with fists clenched at his sides. Braggart backed away with a baleful glare before turning tail and moving out. Some of the others followed him.

Fights were normally hashed out, finished, and forgotten. This one took the wind out of the day's sails. Even Yu gave up on his fish, sitting down with the rest of them as if his presence would inspire some spectacle. When nothing followed other than more awkward silence, Teng wandered off in search of worthwhile amusement. Ren and Gai left down a road that wound through the rural outskirts of town.

Gai picked up a stick, taking random swings at branches that stuck out over the road. "Piece of shit." He grabbed a handful of wild berries and launched them, one by one, at the packed dirt. "He better not ever show his face near me again."

Ren said nothing. Sometimes silence was the best response.

"My father's dead. I've got four kid brothers. You know why we don't starve?"

Again, Ren saw no need to speak. A woman could only do so much farm work with one teenage son to help her and several little ones to care for. When time and money were in short supply, servicing men brought in more livelihood than toiling in the fields. And it was immune to the ravages of droughts, scorching heat, and the occasional swarm of locusts.

Gai kicked at a stone. "Easy to judge when you're filthy rich."

The road led them to Gai's home, a hut accompanied by a small plot of farmland. Two young boys battled with sticks as another clumsily hacked at the earth with a hoe sized for a grown man. A baby was crying somewhere in the house. They waved their goodbyes, and Gai went off to see about his evening's chores.

Ren continued on his way back, mulling over Gai's last words. Though directed at a different target, they ate away at him. A full dinner awaited him while others scraped by with the pittance they were able to grow. His home was surrounded by gardens rather than hardscrabble land to provide the family's sustenance. He would not go hungry if a hunting trip proved fruitless. And he carried on as usual while others suffered, never wondering if there might be some better way.

* * *

_haoqiang_ - A scoundrel or bully.


	6. Bandits

Up at daybreak and out in the wilderness all morning, Cao Ren headed home with his hunter's reward. Six pheasants, full-grown and fat, hung from Thunder Cloud's saddle. Ren would be eating well tonight.

Yet he would be eating well regardless, and certain others might not be as fortunate. Ren took a turn at the crossroads to pay Gai a visit. Forgetting the official guidelines of gift-bearing, he flipped a mental coin to decide which way to turn the pheasant's head for presentation. Ren doubted that anyone would care if he got it wrong. Meat was meat, after all.

When Gai's mother answered the door, a wan reed of a woman with threadbare robes tightly belted to display her curves to their best effect, her main concern was repayment. "What will it be?"

"Nothing." Ren held out the pheasant. "It's a gift."

She rested a hand on his arm, her voice direct and soothing. "There's no need to be shy."

Ren flushed. "I'm not here for that."

Gai walked in from the fields, doing a narrow-eyed double take when he realized who had stopped by. "Ren?"

"I'm not here for that!" Ren shoved the bird into Gai's hands. "I wanted to give this to you. And there's more where it came from."

With a stammered utterance of gratitude, Gai set the pheasant in the tiny kitchen occupying a corner of the house. Sensing that her talents would be best applied toward the evening meal, Gai's mother went off to prepare the bird for cooking. Gai followed Ren outside to gather the rest of the quarry, his eyes bulging at the size of Ren's haul.

"All that's for us?"

Ren nodded, untying the pheasants and handing them over.

"You know when's the last time we ate like this?"

"It's been a while, has it not?"

"Yeah, you could say that." Gai met his eyes. "I owe you one."

Ren shrugged. "It's nothing."

Instead of riding back to town, Ren headed deeper into the countryside. Dinner was a long while off, and there would be plenty of time afterward for his usual schoolwork. Ren passed more farms - some prosperous, some ramshackle - and a bridge where a few boys fished with makeshift rods of sticks and string. He rode by a pond where cranes argued with each other in indignant trills. Judging from the shouting further up the road, the birds were not the only ones settling their differences today.

When Ren got a better view of the commotion, his amusement turned to ice in his stomach. He stopped, dismounted, and sneaked into a nearby thicket. Thunder Cloud's hooves fell silent in the soft loam, and their rustling of branches was too distant to alert the crowd up ahead. Even so, Ren dared not breathe too deeply as he crept through his cover for a closer look.

A gang of bandits had surrounded a farmer. The farmer carried a sack of grain. His antagonists brandished fists - except for their leader, who wielded some evil-looking blade.

And plunged it into the farmer.

The man dropped his bag and fell to his knees with the same dead weight, a dark stain spreading over the front of his _yi_. A miscreant picked up the grain, hoisting it over his shoulder as casually as anyone coming home from the market. Spoils in hand, the rabble hastened off down the road away from Ren's vantage point. Heaven had smiled upon him with this latest stroke of luck. Though Ren had flattened himself in the underbrush, his pounding heart might very well be as good as a war drum in this silence.

Ren sprinted over to the injured farmer, far too late but refusing to leave without some attempt to help. The man's torso was gashed open, his eyes lifeless glass. One hand still clutched the wound, a desperate effort to hold his vitality in by sheer force of will. Ren ran for his horse, not wishing to see any more - and very much needing to make an escape in case more bandits lurked nearby.

Ren spurred Thunder Cloud as if the driving rhythm of the horse's hooves could scrub away the horror branded into his mind. Galloping did no favors to the ill sensation threatening to send his breakfast on a fast trip to the ground, but at least that provided another distraction. Five had swarmed a defenseless man, ripped his life away in one cruel blow. And for what? A sack of grain?

The voice of Braggart mocked him. _They cost about the same, don't they?_ _And you just sat there the whole time._

Ren's stomach twisted. He could have fired an arrow, scared them off.

Not quite. Ren had a bow, but the miscreants had numbers and a demonstrated willingness to murder. Perhaps they would run, but they might rather mob him instead. One more victim gutted on the roadside as the rabble went on their merry way - no sense in such pointless sacrifice.

Other images filtered in alongside the frozen shock of the farmer's face. A merchant greeting Ren with his arm in a sling and a snappish refusal to barter. Gai cursing about stolen tools, plundered fields, a neighbor's brood of chickens disappearing overnight. Five against one, and more where they came from. Who would stand up to stop the unrest?

This question took root as Ren rode home. It grew as he turned Thunder Cloud over to the stable staff with a brief excuse for his empty-handed return. And it prodded Ren with its thorns as he bode the hour before the evening meal, reviewing page after page of schoolwork without comprehending a single word.

* * *

Though Cao Ren had little appetite, he managed to finish his soup and a few bites of meat. At least he did not need to talk. Chun and Mother prattled on and on about a collection of poetry purchased from a visiting scholar. Thanks to arduous classwork on the Book of Odes, which he had barely passed, Ren harbored a special distaste for verses. Chun could not get enough of them. Once he had tried to explain the appeal by reading Ren a poem about nature. A particular phrase somehow smelled like the wind through the meadow grass. The rest was mere words, and Ren would rather be outside himself than learn the alchemy of language required to see it as his brother did.

Admittedly, Ren had to credit poetry just this once for giving him room to clear his head. Now he could get back to studying as usual.

But every line blurred into an awful memory. A blade glittering in the still midday sun. The dread ooze of blood. Unseeing eyes that stared at Ren until he shoved his textbook aside, hoping that brother was in the mood to talk.

As if summoned by the mystical bond that twins were said to share, Chun stopped by the chamber door with a tea tray. Ren motioned for him to come in and sit down. He did so, pouring a cup for each of them.

"What's going on? You hardly ate."

The tea turned out to be some potent herbal concoction. Ren took a good long drink as if to loosen the words from his tongue.

"I saw a man get killed."

Chun stopped mid-sip.

"By bandits. For a bag of grain."

"Where did this happen?"

"Out in the country. He was a farmer minding his business." Ren swallowed. "And I was a coward hiding in the bushes."

Chun set down the teacup, meeting Ren's eyes with straightforward sincerity. "You weren't a coward."

"I had my bow."

"But you also had sense. What could you have done to stop one criminal, let alone a group of them?"

Just as Ren had tried to tell himself. Strange how the same line of reasoning rang truer when spoken by someone else.

"Besides, it's not your concern. It's the inspectors' job."

"What if they aren't doing that well enough?" Overseers paid little attention to the farmlands. Teng, who never dared to steal from market stalls, readily looted merchant's wagons stopped on rural roads. His only punishment was an earful of cursing if the driver happened to see him, perhaps with a bit of exercise if the victim gave chase as well. Not that it mattered. From what Ren had seen of the inspectors - shapeless old men taking lackadaisical patrols around town - they would be pheasants ripe for the picking in the face of a bandit attack.

Chun continued as if Ren had not spoken. "Government maintains order because it follows natural rules to receive Heaven's blessing." He smiled. "I know you were awake when Master went over that."

Ren did not return the expression. His mood was well below what a jesting compliment could salvage.

"And we've been blessed this year. The weather is pleasant, and the merchants have plenty of food to sell."

If only the same could be said for Gai and his neighbors.

"So Heaven is taking care of its own, both in nature and in government. Just as the forest regrows after a storm, law breakers will be punished as they deserve."

Ren topped off his teacup. "I'm glad you have such faith."

"I know you do, too." Chun shrugged. "At the very least, you're too stubborn to let this get the better of you."

A smile at last. "Now that's something we can agree on."

They finished the tea and said their good nights, leaving Ren to take an early bedtime. Perhaps Chun knew best, as was often true. Doubt still lurked in the back of Ren's mind along with that unanswered question about the inspectors. Brother might be placing too much trust in the effectiveness of government. But he also trusted Ren's ability to forge onward through any obstacles thrown in his path. Ren took some comfort in this shared confidence as he tossed and turned his way to sleep.


	7. Rising up

Cao Ren tried to put the bandits behind him, burying them under a mental boulder like any other piece of unpleasant irrelevance. They stayed there when he was at home or in school or browsing the busy marketplace. When both Ren and his place in the world were safe. But country roads blurred into that same stretch where the farmer had met his end, and the surrounding wilderness seemed alive with the glares of malevolent watchmen.

According to the teachings, peace maintained itself within a well-structured government. People would live contentedly, going about their business with no reason for strife. Yet this lofty ideal did not hold up in practice. Soldiers were employed by the Empire to quell the rare disturbance that overwhelmed local authorities. Father had instructed such men in the arts of horsemanship.

As days passed, this memory became an inspiration. Some discussion with friends turned it into a plan.

Hong claimed to find enough trouble on his own, but Gai jumped in with both feet and a promise to round up some others for the cause. As their first meeting approached, Ren brooded over his preparations. The group would be ready and willing, energetic and eager. He could teach them some basics, channel their wayward restlessness into the beginnings of empowerment. At the same time, he had to prove himself worthy of their respect. A leader to guide them, yet a peer to stand alongside them. A tenuous balance that he could only trust his best intentions to sort out.

* * *

Gai greeted Cao Ren with a most welcome surprise. Ren had expected his friend to bring a buddy or two. About ten farmer's sons had come along to join them, each carrying a long wooden pole. A dummy of stuffed sacks was tied to a tree, complete with a rough dot painted on the center.

Ren boggled, at a loss for words. Gai grinned. "I said I owed you one." He turned to his friends. "And here's the guy I was telling you about."

The group murmured and nodded, looking at Ren expectantly. He wished he would have brought some speech of introduction.

"I'm glad to meet all of you. My name is Cao Ren."

A mouse-faced boy spoke up. "Hu Xu."

Then one with a perpetual expression of surprise. "Fei Gong."

And so on until everyone had identified themselves. Ren would forget most of their names by the end of the afternoon, but at least some tension had been broken.

"We all know why we're here, so let's get to business. We have numbers. That's good. We have weapons. That's great. What we need now is practice."

Ren reached out to Gong, who handed over his pole. It made a fine improvised weapon - cheap, reasonably light, hefty enough to hurt if swung with sufficient force. The end could even be whittled into a point and then sharpened many times before the staff became too short to bother with.

Nodding at the dummy, Ren motioned for everyone to line up behind him. He approached the target and gave it a solid whack with the stick. One by one, the others attacked as well. Some swung. Others charged with their staves held like battering rams. Gai ran into the dummy at full tilt, spiking it with such vigor that he bounced backward and landed on his rear. He learned from his mistake and braced himself on the next round. A less astute boy swung wildly over and over until Ren pulled him aside and explained how to keep a strong stance.

When the dummy lost too much stuffing to be useful, the boys moved on to other drills. Some dueled, whereas others swung and poked at invisible opponents. Ren took turns participating and observing, unsure of what guidance he was supposed to provide. The group's techniques were on the scrappy side. They still seemed effective enough, especially with the concepts on organization that Ren was saving for a reasonable break in practice.

Teng wandered by with a bow slung across his back and a pheasant in hand. This small success was surprising. The only time Teng had gone hunting with Ren, his marksmanship had made brother Chun look like a master archer in comparison.

"Looks like fun." Teng raised an eyebrow. "Can I play, too?"

"It's not a game."

"I know. That's what makes it fun."

Perhaps Teng did not appreciate the seriousness of the situation. Yet he might serve the group well if given a chance to do so. His skills at procurement could be useful, assuming that he limited them to acceptable means. When Teng acted on his own, the consequences of stealing were his responsibility. Thievery from someone in Ren's service would make Ren no better than a bandit leader himself.

It was worth a try. Teng would either agree to behave or go off in search of a better diversion.

"If you're all right with the rules, you're in. Break them, and you're out."

Ren half expected a smart remark in response, but Teng only waited for him to continue.

"My job is to lead. Yours is to follow. We must all work together if we're to get anywhere."

Teng nodded.

"And no more stealing. Either bring it from home or pay for it yourself."

Teng smirked, failing to hide the disappointment in his lowered eyes. "I was afraid of that."

"So you understand that we're here to stop trouble, not to cause more of it."

"Makes sense to me."

"Good." Ren nodded at the rest of the group. "Go join them."

Teng indicated his bow. "But I have this." And the pheasant. "I finally shot something with it, too."

Ren snorted. "You're just as likely to hit one of us by mistake. Until you show some improvement at target practice, it's a stick or nothing."

"Fair enough." With a shrug, Teng picked up a spare staff and did as he was told.

When the mock duels became sluggish and sloppy, Ren called for a break with a change of focus to follow. From time to time, Father had taken Ren and Chun to the cavalry training grounds when drills were being performed. They had marveled at the neat arrays of riders with crisp uniforms, stern posture, and strict attention to the leader's commands. Though Ren did not plan on holding his fellows to such precise standards of appearance and coordination, a similar emphasis on order would give them an advantage over disorganized rabble.

Ren gathered everyone back after they had taken a few moments to refresh themselves by the creek. "You all do well at fighting on your own. Now, we must learn to fight together. Bandits surround their victims, scare them into giving up. When we stand as a group, we'll show them that we're not afraid. When we move as a group, we won't let them get the better of us."

He directed the boys in some simple formations. They walked in rows to look like a regiment rather than a horde of troublemakers. On Ren's command, they encircled imaginary foes. And they huddled into knots with their backs facing inward and weapons raised against any who would try to trap them.

The group was surprisingly apt. Aside from a couple of stragglers, the boys marched steadily and hustled into place when signaled to spread out or draw together. Thinking back to Gai's young brothers fighting out in the yard, Ren suspected he was witnessing the results of a more sophisticated version of that same game. He and Chun had played soldier as well, but the sticks had been taken away and replaced with books as they began to understand written words. Things were certainly different when self-defense was part of everyday life.

Practice finished up as afternoon faded into evening. The farm boys headed home, striding off with their staves held high. One of them had slung the flattened dummy over his shoulder like a trophy from the hunt. Teng offered to return for the next meeting. "Better than my original plans," he said. Not that Teng ever planned much of anything, but he had shut his mouth and gone to work and stuck around to see it through. Actions spoke louder than words, and these paid Ren quite a compliment.

Having stayed behind, Hu Xu watched Ren untie Thunder Cloud from a tree. "Some waste of space beat up my sister. I hope we catch him."

Ren nodded. "I hope so, too."

"We're going to, right?"

"We'll be alert and prepared. That's all I can promise."

Ren saddled up and turned to leave. Xu held him back as he began to ride away.

"Let me ask you something else." Xu's small eyes were direct and searching. "What's in this for you?"

"Knowing that I stood up when others would not."

"You mean that?"

"Of course."

"Good." Xu smirked. "Because you're not going to get rich or famous hanging out with us."

Ren shrugged. "I wasn't planning on either."

* * *

Cao Chi held title as Colonel of the Chang River Regiment.


	8. Confrontation

"So when do we get to fight?" demanded a jumpy scrap of a boy whose name kept escaping Cao Ren's mind. He asked the same question on every outing although the response never varied.

"As I keep saying, we will fight when we have to."

Though the group would eventually test its mettle against some miscreant or another, Ren did not look forward to this inevitability. He knew all too well that such a confrontation could turn deadly, and he had come to terms with this fact. Yet the choice to kill or be slain was a grave necessity rather than an anticipated thrill.

A handful of rough men had passed them by without comment, as had a government official taking his leisurely ride through the farmlands. Ren and Teng had supplied everyone with hunting attire, a practical middle ground between academy robes and ragtag garments with every mishap marked by another patch or mend. Some of the boys had hemmed their uniforms. Others simply rolled up their cuffs. And others had the opposite problem, with gangly wrists sticking out the ends of their sleeves. The outfits gave a reasonable air of respectability, especially with the boys marching behind Ren in organized lines.

Ren's squad patrolled the most populous part of the farmlands on a route that Gai had planned. Focusing on a smaller area seemed wiser than overextending themselves. If something went wrong, they would be close to their usual meeting place rather than stranded far from safety.

Such thoroughness soon proved useful. The boys took their second march down a lane that they had visited without incident earlier in the morning. This time, a man was hurrying away from a farm with an armload of tools. An elbow to Ren's side informed him that this was not the owner of the property.

"Hey!" Ren hollered. The thief abandoned his spoils and took off running. Scrapper broke away from the group to sprint after him.

The criminal slowed to a halt as the boy caught up. He turned around with a smirk, regarding Scrapper as a bug to be squashed. Knees shaking, the boy valiantly approached with his pole held out in front of him like a charm to ward off evil.

And he stood steady as a bandit appeared from the nearby forest, soon accompanied by another. The rest of the men showed themselves, and Scrapper was surrounded.

There was no time to plan, only a moment for instinct to kick in. Ren charged into the circle with a mighty bellow, slamming one of the miscreants out of his way. A few of the others followed his lead to drive a wedge through the rabble. Momentarily ignored in this distraction, Scrapper threw down his stick and turned to run. A hand reached out and grabbed the boy's collar, yanking him back like a rag doll. The other held a knife.

As before, Ren did not think. He simply acted. Spinning around into a full-forced swing, Ren struck Scrapper's assailant with a hefty blow to the side. The bandit staggered and lashed out before Ren had a chance to dodge. Pain streaked down Ren's flank, sharp and bright as the attacker's blade itself.

Ren recovered, reared back, and retaliated, the stinging fire of his injury paling beside a momentary fury. These criminals could have run away, leaving the stolen goods to the farmer who owned them. Instead, they had felt so threatened by a boy half their size that they saw fit to trap and kill him. Over and over Ren bludgeoned the miscreant until the man dropped his knife and fell backward to the ground alongside it. Keeping a watchful eye on his foe, Ren cocked his staff with a firm grip and a prayer that he would not need to use it again.

The bandit reached for his weapon. Ren kicked his outstretched hand, realizing a moment later that the man could have grabbed his foot. But he did not. The miscreant scooted backward, got himself standing, and awkwardly trotted off down the road. His companions broke away from the fight to flee along with him.

Yelling for everyone else to retreat, Ren led a fast march back to their meeting place. No head count was needed to see that the squad had lost a few of its soldiers. Practice and war games only went so far. In the face of peril, fright had shown its way of winning out over all. Understandable as this was, it could not be excused. The immediate danger had passed, but that hardly meant it was over. If more rabble was lying in ambush along their way - Ren shuddered at the thought.

But the path was clear, and the group safely arrived at its makeshift base of operations. Some of the boys were unharmed. Others had earned a few lumps and bumps, nothing worse than the results of an everyday scuffle. Ren removed his top for a closer look at the gash. To his relief, it was merely a surface wound - a long, ugly, and bloody one, but minor nonetheless. He bandaged it up with a cloth strip from the supply stash and changed into a clean shirt kept for such purposes. A bit of dirt and disorder were part of a typical day in the woods, but a blood-stained rip would tell quite a different tale. Along with the boys who had marched back with him, Ren waited for the others to return.

One by one, the runaways came back to the clearing. They sat without speaking, looking at the ground or each other or anything to avoid meeting Ren's eyes. Fei Gong, appearing more contrite than surprised, began to mumble an apology. Ren waved for him to shut it.

Scrapper stood up and approached, his eyes wide with shame. _So you got your chance to fight, _Ren thought_. Are you happy?_ The answer was obvious, and there would be little sense in piling it onto someone who knew just how far he had gone out of line and had almost paid for it with his life. Still, the rank breaking had to be addressed.

As Ren chose his words, Scrapper demonstrated how such an address should be made. He turned around, removed his _yi_, and bent over. His narrow back was mottled with bruises.

Perhaps some lessons were best learned at the end of a stick. A student's mouth might squawk all through detention, only silenced by a few swift smacks on the rear. Yet such punishment served as a last resort when nothing else would do. Every mistake in this boy's life was mapped out in clouds of fading blotches. In this sense, he had already been piled on more than enough.

"Get dressed," Ren ordered. "And stay in formation next time."

Still wide-eyed - this time with relief - Scrapper scrambled into his top and back with the others.

"That goes for the rest of you as well. You're either with me, or you're not." Ren turned to the boys who had accompanied him the full way. "You were all with me. Thanks to you, we taught those criminals a lesson they won't forget."

"As to you." Ren faced the group of stragglers. "I have your front. I need to trust that you'll have my back. If you can promise me that, then prove it to me next time. If not, you're free to go."

Ren left everyone with that choice as they all went their separate ways. Some gave him a smile, a nod, or a few words of agreement. Others slunk off without comment, unlikely to return to future meetings, and Ren made no attempt to hold them back. Better to leave now than be a burden later, and better to lead a committed few than an unwilling crowd that ran for the hills at the first sign of trouble. The dedicated would improve. The rest would be replaced. And the group would grow ever stronger.

* * *

Cao Ren took a slow ride home, avoiding ruts and bumps as well as he could. Despite this caution, his bandage had begun to soak through by the time he got back to his chambers. Ren had once needed sutures for a nasty cut that refused to stay closed on its own. Disturbing as it would be to sew himself up, this injury called for the same treatment.

Ren sneaked into a storage room for a fresh cloth strip, a thin needle and thread, and a jar of medicinal salve. Supplies in hand, he turned around to find Jade Blossom waiting at the door with folded arms and a knowing gaze.

"Let's see the damage."

Ren's stomach dropped, but he had no way out. He stripped off his _yi _to reveal the bloodied bandage.

Jade Blossom loosened the cloth, took a glance underneath, tightened it in place once again. "I'll be back in a moment to take care of this. When I return, I expect that you'll tell me where it came from."

Ren knelt and waited, thinking over his story as if preparing for trial. Jade Blossom had her way of dragging out the truth with an incisive look, a cocked eyebrow, a certain tilt of her head. Then again, a strategically abridged version of events might stand up to her scrutiny.

Jade Blossom reentered the room with a washbowl and a lit lamp. She purified the needle with flame, setting it aside to cool after it glowed red. "All right. Let's hear it."

"I got into a fight with a bandit gang."

Eyebrows raised, Jade Blossom peered at Ren for a long and curious moment. "Really? That's some trouble, even for you." She began to wash his wound, bringing a shudder with the initial chill of wet rag on flushed skin. "Especially after how quiet you've been over these past few months."

"The trouble found me." Which was true, though one could argue that Ren had invited it by being out on patrol. "Those criminals tried to kill a friend of mine. I wasn't about to let them."

"It's fortunate that you weren't killed yourself." Jade Blossom dried off the clean gash, applied a thin coating of balm, and prepared to stitch it up. "Don't let all that time with your books take away the good sense Heaven gave you."

Steeling himself for each prick of the needle, Ren focused on the low burn of his injury rather than the tug of string being drawn through his skin. He observed Jade Blossom's adept technique with the sinking realization that his own attempt would have been clumsy at best, possibly more of a harm than a help. Perhaps some practice on plucked pheasants could teach him to suture a human patient.

Jade Blossom gave her handiwork a once-over before tying on a new bandage. "Be careful with this, now. Best to take a break from the archery until it heals."

That came as no surprise. The dratted wound was on Ren's right side where it would painfully stretch with every pull of the bow. "How about riding?"

"That should be fine as long as you take it easy. And if it hurts - stop."

Ren snorted. "I knew that."

Jade Blossom smiled wryly. "After all you've gotten yourself into, I'm not so sure."

She sent Ren back to his chambers with a cup of tea, an admonishment to rest, and assurance that he would receive no grief from Mother over this stroke of misfortune. The salve soothed his wound, and the tea calmed his mind. He would carry on after all, even if the patrolling had to be put on hold for a while. He would think, plan, prepare for even more perilous encounters, taking to heart the unforgettable lesson that the rabble had taught him in return.


	9. Contemplation

Cao Hong spluttered around a mouthful of the peach that he had unluckily bitten into just after inquiring about Ren's plans. "You're going back out there?"

Ren nodded.

"After you got all sliced up like that?"

"It's almost healed."

"You must have some big brass balls or a blockhead to beat them all." Hong finished his peach and threw away the pit. "My bet's on the blockhead."

Ren ignored him, pausing their tour of the market to watch a basket take shape in its weaver's nimble hands. Such vessels were resilient and durable, as were the floor mats made out of the same tough grasses. Perhaps that woven material could be fashioned into a lightweight sort of armor.

"Funny, isn't it?" Hong smirked. "I thought studying was supposed to make you smarter."

Ren snorted. "It taught me to shut my mouth. That's something you could stand to learn."

Classwork had been a means to an end, a penance to pay for regaining privileges. Yet it had rubbed off on Ren in admittedly useful ways. Drilling knowledge into his own stubborn skull had showed him some tricks for explaining it to others. Not that his army would be reciting classic poetry during a march, but the principles of effective learning applied to a variety of subjects. From annals of history to attack formations, confusing concepts were better understood when broken down into simple pieces.

Ren also found himself taking an interest in the practical side of his curriculum. As outlined in the Book of Rites, the monthly proceedings of government intrigued him with their ties to both logic and traditional mysticism. Ren had chosen these rules as the subject of a recent assignment, exploring the pragmatic foundation of guidelines related to agriculture. Earlier that day, Master Pan had returned the essay with a pleased nod of his head and a mark well above passing. Chun had received the expected outstanding grade, which he downplayed when Ren got a glimpse of it. Even if Chun had boastfully waved it around as he was apt to do in prior years, his success would not have overshadowed Ren's own. Like Hong's typical rudeness, it was a mere wisp of cloud in the sunny afternoon.

"Maybe I should stop by one of these days," Hong said. "See just what it is that you're doing. If even Teng's into it - maybe it's worth my time."

"Just don't waste my time if it isn't."

"What are you now, Prefect of Tightass County?"

Ren smacked Hong's topknot. "Better than being a dumbass like you. Besides, I thought I was the blockhead to beat them all."

Hong shrugged. "You can be both."

"How about neither?"

"Good luck with that."

* * *

"Well done." Mother set down Cao Ren's essay with a smile. "Well done indeed. It reminds me of your father's writing."

Now that was a pleasant surprise. Several years ago, Ren had taken his one and only look into that particular corner of the estate library. The subject matter was well beyond him, and he shoved Father's musings back onto the shelf after a token glance. They came from an adult world, a smart world, a world where deep thoughts flowed among dinner guests like wine. A world where quips and allusions and historical trivia were traded with the ease of wisecracks flying between Ren and his friends.

"It's clear, straightforward, purposeful. You get the point across without wasting words."

Ren shrugged. "I've never been much for poetry." His writing lacked a certain flair that effortlessly emerged from Chun's pen. Ren's odd attempts at fancier wording fell flat and tripped him up along the way.

"There's no need for you to be. You express yourself well, and that's the most important consideration." Mother took a sip of her tea. "I can understand why the proceedings of government appeal to you."

"They make sense. They get results that anyone can see, and they're based on reasons that anyone can understand. All in all, they come from basic guidelines rather than a long list of details."

Mother nodded. "You've never been one to bog yourself down in those, either."

"Why deal with all of that if you can avoid it? It's too much to remember and too easy to get wrong."

"Yet it's also too important to a great many people in power." Mother shook her head. "Your father dealt with a few like that, officials who would rather fuss over nothing than finish any meaningful work."

Ren laughed. "I know a few of those as well." A pompous lout of a classmate had made a great show of turning in his essay. The scroll, twice as thick as everyone else's, came back with a mark that had him ranting to his friends as they left the academy that afternoon. Judging by said outburst, the assignment must have been similarly long on bluster and short on content. "They try to make themselves look good, but they look like fools instead."

"Some of them never grow out of that foolishness, and they are rewarded by others with like minds. I'd say that we need more down-to-earth voices in high places." Mother met Ren's eyes. "Such as you."

Ren floated through the rest of their chat on a hazy swell of pride. He had given little concern to his career, figuring that it would fall into place eventually. The governmental bureaucracy involved all sorts of jobs. Surely one would be suited for him, even if he could not aspire to the prestige of the upper ranks. Now it seemed that Ren could aim higher than he expected. From rough notes to the finished draft, his assignment had been more satisfying than tedious. If Ren's work required that sort of thought, and his particular brand of such was as necessary as Mother said, perhaps he was cut out for the ministry after all.

Yet this answer raised a question of its own - what would become of Ren's thriving militia in the months to follow. More boys had joined up in the place of those who had quit, with heightened enthusiasm and new sparring techniques to share with the group. Gai and his friends were all eager to throw themselves into training when winter brought a reprieve from the chores that had consumed most of their days during the growing seasons. Winter would also bring more schoolwork and priorities to juggle. Ren only had so much energy to split between army and academia. Spreading himself too thin would doom him to fail at both.

Even so, these worries were lowering clouds on a distant horizon. Ren refused to allow them to darken the brightness of his morrow. If the time came, he would weather the storm. For now he looked toward the clear skies and the golden promise of dawn.


	10. On the road ahead

The rutted roads were rimed with ice that crackled under passing feet and hooves and wagon wheels. A featureless blanket of cloud covered the sky, drab as the dormant grass in the fields and meadows. Yet the spirit of Cao Ren's army burned bright through the gray depths of winter. The boys amicably argued over the morning's haul, their banter mingling as plumes of white in the frigid air.

Fei Gong picked up a bronze serving dish with twin dragons for handles, weighing it in his hands as if appreciating its value. Teng set his eye on a wine jar of a similar design. Gai considered a bolt of fine silk brocade. "My mother would love this."

A boy leered at him. "She'd love something else from me, too."

Ren tensed to jump between them, but Gai struck back with a glare rather than a swung fist.

The haul in question was a small cart marked with the name of a prominent landowner and stuffed to the brim with a mishmash of merchandise from grain sacks to glazed dishware. Upon bringing the goods to the well-kept home of their rightful possessor, Ren and his fellows had been rewarded with an invitation to take one prize apiece. "You boys can put this to far better use than I," the landowner had declared, bestowing his largesse with a grand sweep of his arm and the uptilted chin of a wishful lord.

"We should have just kept it all like I said to," grumbled Hu Xu as he dug through the heap. Out of perpetual disgust at the man who heavily taxed his family's farm with no regard for sickness or scant harvests, Xu had pleaded to empty the cart before returning it. _Like he's going to cry himself to sleep over a bunch of fancy plates. And if he does, so what? My sister tosses and turns all night because we can barely afford to eat. Let him know what it feels like for once._

Though sympathetic to this line of reasoning, Ren had remained firm in his insistence to bring the cart back as they had found it. Xu's landlord might commit his own sort of thievery, but reacting in kind was a pointless form of protest. The man would not be motivated to change his ways, and the boys would learn that the rules of their conduct could be bent at will - a lesson that Ren certainly did not wish to teach. At least they had received some repayment. The landowner's favor spoke more of condescension than concern, but it left the boys with more than they had before. To those with little to their name other than a cramped corner of a shabby house, this was significant.

Even more notable was the ease with which Ren's army had captured the cart. Miscreants generally put up some form of resistance, even if it was only a load of bravado that turned into a hasty retreat when the boys snapped into formation. This morning's rabble had not even given them that. Ren and his squad had been marching down the road as the cart thieves headed up toward them. After one good look at Ren's banner, a modest flag sewn and painted by some of the handier soldiers, the bandits had scattered without a single word.

This sign of repute meant more to Ren than any trinket from the pile, and the boys had been working hard to deserve it. In addition to stepping up their sparring practice, they tried anything that their comrades would teach them. A friend of Fei Gong's had sharpened his first aid skills while caring for troublesome siblings and his neighbors' livestock. He had not yet seen an opportunity to demonstrate setting broken bones - and Ren hoped that such an opportunity would never arise - but leather scraps served well enough for suturing. Ren had brought scrolls of children's songs for those who expressed an interest in reading. It was difficult to explain what he had learned at Mother's side so many years ago, but Ren's students responded to his efforts with plenty of their own. Gai boasted that he would soon be ready for a real story, simple as it might be.

Not everyone could be a master of surgery or scholarship. Some of the boys were deft with staves and hopeless with needles. Others scoffed at the notion of scratching their heads over symbols that someone else could decipher for them. Yet every bit of shared knowledge contributed to a focused camaraderie that inspired more and more soldiers to bring their fellows under Ren's command. His army had tripled in size since its first meeting of the previous summer, and it maintained a strong and sensible order. By and large, the boys fell in line out of eagerness to belong. Displeased words, additional exercise, and banishment from patrol sufficed to correct the occasional lapse in discipline. A few soldiers took a remarkable shine to the military structure, distinguishing themselves with initiative and ability. They helped to direct drills and formations while Ren stole away to review his school notes.

Between the numbers and the emerging leadership required to make proper use of them, Ren's army was on the verge of splitting. Separate squads could cover more ground, traveling the no-man's-land between the most outlying farms and the mail outposts en route to the villages beyond. And if others joined them, they could reach even further. Higher. Marching in step with their heads held high, the banners streaming bright and proud. A formidable force, a rock against which the winds of unrest would break and falter.


	11. Trust

Character after character, line after line, stroke after tedious brush stroke. Verse upon verse, Cao Ren distilled the Annals into the toil and triumph of long-dead leaders. Names and dates and places all lined up in formation, parading across his bamboo sheets as the great men's regiments must have marched off to battle so many years ago. Glyphs stood stalwart, gathering into fortifications against the wind and the rain and the fires of war. They grew legs, raised swords, tensed to unleash a hailstorm of arrows. They shimmered, shifted, sprang to life -

- and Ren lifted his head from his notes to find the last few events flattened into a smudge. He rubbed his nose and came away with a smear of ink. First Ren had nodded off in class, where Chun had mercifully nudged him before Master Pan could administer a harsher wake-up call. Even with the help of the tea that servants drank by the potful during night watch, he was doing no better at home. At least Ren had forged onward with only a bit of soot to show for it, but there would be worse if he failed to catch up on his work. The proverbial horse was dragging him along. Unless Ren got back on top of the situation, he would be landing on his face in more ways than one.

Chun called in from the doorway. "I can use a break. How about you?"

With a nod, Ren got up from his mat. He certainly could, though brother did not know the extent of it.

The gardens were dreary at this time of year, so they went to a guest chamber where the sun shone from a vibrant mural of paradise. Phoenixes soared alongside Heaven's eye, their feathers edged with fine brushstrokes of gold. A servant followed, carrying a tray of tea and fruit.

"Thanks for the help earlier."

"You've been putting so much work into your scholarship. I'd hate to see you fall behind over one small mistake." Chun raised a conspiratorial eyebrow. "Besides, I can sympathize."

Popping a date into his mouth, Ren waited for Chun to continue.

"I was drifting off as well. They ought to be called the Spring and Boredom Annals."

Ren laughed. "I never thought you'd meet a school subject you didn't like."

"I didn't, either." Chun ducked Ren's playful attempt to slap his topknot. "But there's a first time for everything, is there not?"

"I'd say so." Ren had recently taken such a leap of his own, entrusting Gai as leader of an overnight scouting trip to a town where the high road branched. Childhood memories of the place, viewed from the window of a carriage en route to visiting Father in Luoyang, marked it as little more than a way station. It was a landmark nonetheless - the furthest that any of them had marched on military business - and a possible stepping stone to destinations beyond. If only Ren could be out breaking new ground rather than poring over relics of the distant past.

"Mathematical problems are puzzles to work through. The Changes and Odes all have some artistry to them. There's a rhythm to the words, and they bring images to mind as well." Chun sipped his tea. "The Annals are just row after row of old, dry ink."

"I'd agree with that, though some aren't so bad. The battle reports make me think of men riding off to war."

"That sounds about right for you."

Ren's mug nearly slipped from his hands. Had brother somehow found him out?

"You are the star horseman of the family, after all." Chun smirked good-naturedly. "But my archery is catching up to yours."

A swallowed breath of relief. "Is it, now?"

"Come out to the field and I'll show you."

Already up and leaving, Ren paused at the door to cast a rakish glance over his shoulder. "I'll race you from the west courtyard."

Chun followed with a grin. Some joys of childhood never lost their appeal.

* * *

Du Gai and his small band of fellows had left town in high spirits. The rock clearing and the wood gathering and the carpentry were all caught up for the time being. Their humble farms had some advantages in that regard, with fewer fences to mend and a mere hut to maintain. The growing season would be starting soon, bringing them back to hoeing and weeding and cursing when the grain failed to thrive in the thin soil of their yards. But they were on a road forward rather than mired in the same spot for the foreseeable future, and it stretched toward a distant horizon that they had some prayer of attaining.

The clouds turned into mist that became a heavy drizzle, and the early green of the farmlands faded into barren wilderness stubbornly resisting the spring thaw. Cao Ren's banner, the only scrap of blue sky in the countryside, wilted into a ghost of its usual glory. Wisecracks trailed off into silence as the boys trod along with only an occasional passing carriage to break the monotony.

Zhi poked Gai as they passed a forgotten road marker. "What does that say?"

"Beats me." The painted glyphs were tired and worn. Gai had no idea what they were supposed to look like, let alone what they actually meant.

"That's what you said last time."

Gai rolled his eyes. So this was the downside of learning to read. He knew the numbers, the months, and simple verses of other common words, and everyone made him out to be some sort of sage. When Gai finally worked his way through the story Ren had given him, he would be just about ready to dispense wisdom from the top of a mountain.

"How much longer now?" Zhi demanded.

"That's what you said last time, too. And the time before that."

Hu Xu chimed in. "And the time before that as well."

"All right, all right!" Zhi snapped. "Sorry I asked. I'll keep my mouth shut from now on."

Which he had also said before and obviously failed to deliver upon. To no one's surprise, Zhi felt the need to repeat his tiresome inquiries at every marker afterward.

At long last, the boys came upon a signpost marking the outskirts of the village proper. Tempted as he was to parade into town, sodden banner and all, Gai rolled up the pennant and stuffed it into his pack. All sorts of travelers passed through this uncharted territory - rich, poor, desperate for more - and it likely had its fair share of banditry. The boys were best off blending in, a ragtag group on a quest to see what they could see. Seeking their fortune like folk tale heroes, though their ambition seemed more reasonable than that in the tales of old. Children dreamed of being written in legend for slaying some fantastical beast. Men put their heads down and got to work. It might take a stroke of good fortune for the sweat of their brow to overcome the circumstances of their birth, but a certain amount of luck had to be made rather than awaited.

Town itself was an unremarkable cluster of buildings, sprung up around the crossroads like toadstools growing on the dark side of a log. Or on a heap of manure, which was a more apt comparison to the surrounding wasteland. Its narrow streets were devoid of people, its houses silvered from weather exposure and slick with rain. Gai had a mind to dare someone to touch one and see if his hand came away slimy.

Somebody groaned. "That's all? What a waste."

"Don't knock it until you've seen it." Gai indicated the sprawling inn, which glowed invitingly through its shuttered windows. "At least we'll get some food and a dry place to sleep."

The inn was warm and well-kept, run by a straightforward man who served Gai and his fellows without scrutiny. Ren had provided coin to cover the expense of lodging. Instead of settling for the cheapest porridge and a single chamber for them all to squeeze into, the boys allowed themselves the luxury of full meals and roomier sleeping arrangements. The steamed bread was fresh and plentiful, the noodle bowls hearty with chunks of meat rather than gristled scraps that barely served to flavor the broth.

After they had eaten their fill, washed up, and taken a moment to relax, the boys got down to business. Some went to the outskirts, looking for sheltered land where they might set up camp on future excursions. Gai and the others explored the village without much idea of what they were supposed to find. Carriages clopped through now and then, but none seemed to have any plans of stopping. Perhaps the outspoken pessimist had been right after all.

Perhaps not. A gang of teenagers had gathered near the inn, pitching coins at the wall of the alley running back to the stables. Gai separated from the others to join them.

Not knowing the particulars of their game, Gai hung back as a casual observer. A few turns later, he had grasped it well enough to edge his way into the group. A tall boy with a flat, impassive face flicked his head at the coins and then raised questioning eyebrows at Gai.

Closest to the wall won the round, and Gai had enough leftover change to join in. He lost a few and had one lucky win while trying to get a sense of the group. Apart from an occasional insult grunted at the winner, the boys gambled in silence. Every thought on Gai's mind seemed like a poor way to break it.

At the start of the next round, one of the boys tossed up his empty hands. "I'm all out."

Gai seized the chance to save some of his money. "Me too."

Another voice piped up. "Yeah, let's go. It's getting too dark to see."

The boys migrated to the hay shed behind the inn. One of them sneaked into the back door and came out with a jug of wine in each hand. They passed the liquor as night fell, their shadowed features spectral in the torchlight of the stable yards.

Someone turned to Gai. "Where are you from?"

"Qiaocheng. Back east."

"Why are you all the way out here? It's not like there's much going on."

Gai shrugged. "There's not much going on back there, either."

A low voice spoke up from his right, languid and smooth with a razor edge. "I'll drink to that."

Gai took a measured sip and handed the wine over. Its recipient helped himself to a hearty chug before thumping the jar down in the hay.

"It was going on. Going on like you wouldn't believe." Another gulp of liquor. "Until some little shits stuck their pricks where they don't belong."

A chill crawled over Gai's skin. He held his tongue, trusting that the wine had loosened the other boy's well enough for him to finish spilling.

"Dirt farmer bastards and some spoiled rich fuck. Jin. No, Ran. Uh..."

"Ren?"

The boy leaned in close, his breath heavy with alcohol fumes. "You know him?"

"I've seen him around."

"Then you tell him this." The boy produced a knife from some hidden pocket of his belt. He held it up, allowing the firelight to trace a wicked glint along its blade. "He keeps it up, we'll hunt him down." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "And I'll tell you that hunters are rewarded."

Gai took a moment of consideration before giving his response.

"How much?"

The boy reached into a pouch and counted out several coins. Even in the darkness, their weight and size indicated a value well beyond that of the change being gambled away earlier in the evening. They would buy a month's worth of meat, maybe more. A reprieve for Mother and relief for Gai's brothers, who could enjoy some time as children instead of trying to collectively fill Father's shoes.

"That's yours to keep. There's more to come when you finish the job."

_Finish the job_, Gai mentally repeated as the words soured in his stomach. What a way to put it, sticking a price on a human head as a neighbor might trade a string of jerky for help with the harvest. But this opportunity could not be allowed to pass into the night.

"I'm listening."

* * *

The Spring and Autumn Annals, also known as the _Chunqiu_, is a concise history of the ancient State of Lu. Traditionally believed to have been compiled by Confucius, it was considered one of the Five Classics of Chinese literature.

Cao Ren was born in Qiao county, presently known as Bozhou, Anhui. The name of its city seat, Qiaocheng District, seems reasonable for its capital in ancient times.


	12. Springing the trap

Five wide and ten deep, the soldiers marched onward with Cao Ren and Du Gai at the forefront. Though their packs were heavy with supplies, their footsteps fell in a spirited rhythm. They gaily hollered in response to Ren's chants, and they joined him in hoisting the banners high whenever a rider passed them by. The road was dry, the day calm and bright. Cloudless skies above promised a clear night to follow.

Ren's pulse quickened when the village came into view. As Gai had said, there was not much to it. But his expedition had confirmed that it held great potential, and plans for further involvement happened to fit within a scheduled break from school. The iron was hot, and now would be the time for Ren to strike out there himself. To stake his claim in that unassuming town and then set his sights on destinations beyond.

Ren turned to Gai, whose usual keen gaze had given way to a quiet contemplation. "You ready for this?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"You had better be." Ren smirked. "You're the expert on this place, you know."

Gai gave a nervous laugh. "Yeah, I guess so. I just hope it all goes well."

"I know it will." Ren met his eyes. "After all, it was your idea."

Gai nodded, then returned to staring off into the distance.

* * *

_Get him out here,_ the assassin had said. _We'll take care of the rest._

This was more than a mere course of action. It also served as a statement of purpose. Cao Ren's army would be annihilated along with its leader. Dead men told no tales, nor did they seek revenge.

In the last hour of twilight, Du Gai set out to play his part in the final act. Finishing the job.

He had joined the others in making camp, setting up tents and building a fire circle in the field discovered during the previous excursion. A wide, lazy creek bordered one side of the clearing. The other ran up against a wildwood of tall trees and tangled undergrowth. The forest provided windbreak, kindling, wild fowl to supplement the grain porridge rations that would be taken on long trips. It was also a maze of bracken to ensnare the unfamiliar in its barbed claws. In more ways than one, it made an ideal cover for the hunt.

The locals seldom bothered with these woods well enough to know them, so Gai led the bandits single file along a path that he had committed to memory. Guided by traces of moonlight filtering in through the treetops, they moved as whispers among the shifting shadows. Gai pushed brambles aside as they advanced, matching his footsteps to the dire thud of his heart. In the grand scheme of things, his previous fights had been nothing. Everyone took their share of lumps, and the worst they called for were sutures and a vacation from patrol. Tonight, soldiers were going to die. And it had been his idea.

The underbrush remained dense, but the trees began to thin. A glimmer of firelight shone through the forest, and a neat array of small tents came into view. Three of Ren's soldiers sprawled around the campfire, sharing a flask rather than keeping watch. Their staves were carelessly scattered nearby.

A chuckle slithered to Gai's ear before vanishing into the darkness. "Fools. They'll never know what hit them."

Gai managed a confident response through his rattled nerves. "Isn't that the truth."

Onward they crept to the point of no return, a serpent coiled to strike at its unsuspecting prey. And that point was soon at hand. As Gai passed a tree with a familiar scrap of fabric tied around its slender trunk, he directed the bandits to halt. He readied his staff, which had been fitted with the blade of a scythe. Behind him came the faint rustle of twenty others doing the same.

As per their ploy, Gai began the countdown. _Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven._ The others murmured along in anticipation.

_Six. _

_Five. _

_Four. _

"Now!"

And Gai dove to the side as Cao Ren jumped out of the scrub with an arrow notched and ready to fly. Two other archers flanked him, backed up by a row of soldiers with sharpened staves.

"Traitor!" screamed a ruffian.

Gai only gave a triumphant guffaw. Such a strange insult to hear from the mouth of someone who had tried to buy him. Those who would put a price on loyalty could expect it to belong to the highest bidder - and Ren's friendship was valued beyond compare.

A few of the miscreants turned and beat a hasty retreat through the forest. The rest rushed forth with a terrible yell, blundering their way through the briars that had served as a natural rampart for the ambush.

With that, the fight was on.

* * *

Cao Ren had to hand it to Gai. If anyone could fit in with a gang of criminals long enough to double cross them, it would be him. And Gai had handed Ren a bewildered herd of bandits in return.

The bramble patch barely hindered the enraged ruffians, who crashed on through it with little regard to the thorns tearing at their clothes or the volleys sent their way. Though Ren and his fellow archers were skilled at picking off pheasants, flailing targets proved a far greater challenge. Most of their arrows sailed by, serving mainly as cover fire. Ren landed a shot in the arm of a miscreant who ripped it out without slowing his charge.

The main force of Ren's army had concealed itself in the forest. When their enemy burst into the clearing, the troops swarmed out to divide and conquer. Drunk with rage and easily manipulated, the bandits were scattered and surrounded. The lucky ones had a friend or two to back them up. The others stood alone against hordes of Ren's soldiers.

Such isolation could have discouraged the miscreants. Instead, it threw fuel on the fire of their wrath. They fought like cornered animals, driving through the blows rained down upon them. At any chance for retaliation, they aimed to kill. Ren's soldiers energetically parried strikes and ducked follow-up stabs, but some were less fortunate than others. Fei Gong broke and ran for the medic's tent, his hand clamped over a wound that had darkened his sleeve with blood. Another soldier fell and was dragged off by two of his comrades.

Unwilling to trust his shooting accuracy in such a brawl, Ren had switched to a bladed staff. He could not be everywhere at once, but he strove to help where he was needed. Ren dove through the fray, joining up with squads locked in struggle against their foes. He charged to the aid of a lone soldier facing a knot of angry bandits. Ren's breath rasped in his chest, and his arms burned from the shock of absorbing blow after blow with the haft of his weapon. Yet he blocked and dodged and lashed back with practiced vigor, always ready with a yell of encouragement to lift the spirits of his weary fellows.

The tenacity of Ren's assault took its toll on the miscreants. Their determination waned as more and more staggered away from the fight. A group of soldiers fell upon one particular enemy, tackling him to the ground and binding his wrists and ankles. The remaining ruffians fled instead of making any attempt to interfere.

When Gai jerked the captive up to a kneeling position, Ren needed no further confirmation of his identity. Unsheathing his hunting knife, Ren met the glare of the one who had schemed to kill him. Who had sought to sever a brotherhood with a mere bag of coin. Who reveled in carnage and greed and strife, and would spill more blood if allowed to go free.

Presenting his weapon to the prisoner, Ren gave the ultimatum. "Surrender or die."

The captive's face remained unrepentant. He blinked once, then spit on Ren's leg.

Bile rose in Ren's gullet as he positioned his knife at the base of the prisoner's neck. Gai pulled the head back and down, providing a clear view of the throat.

Ren pressed his blade into the bandit's skin, drawing a thin red line. The implement was honed. Death would come quickly. He could take some solace in that, small as it might be.

One last time, Ren searched the eyes of his would-be assassin.

Dead. Cold. Gone.

Ren tightened his grip on the handle and slit the prisoner's throat.

* * *

Du Gai assured everyone that the battle was over for good. "That gang ran this town. They kept on bragging about how no one else got in on the action." He cocked his staff over one shoulder. "Looks like the action is all ours now."

Cao Ren regarded the body of the bandit leader, which was unceremoniously keeled over in the meadow. "Did he have family?"

"Doubt it." Gai shrugged. "Even so, do you really think they'd miss him? If some son of mine were that much of a shit, he could go rot in a ditch for all I cared."

"Perhaps." Ren tried to imagine a relative loathsome enough to be worthy of eternal scorn. He had once threatened to disown Chun for poking too much fun at his academic ineptitude, but that was hardly equivalent. "We should at least ask around."

The innkeeper knew of no relations to the slain miscreant, but he was all too happy to celebrate his demise. He told a seething tale of how the criminals had extorted a cut of his profits, gorged themselves on his wine, and squirreled away contraband in his stables. Ren's army had lifted the burden of covering for a gang and paying for the privilege. After venting his woes, the innkeeper clapped his hands together and called for a victory feast. Hot noodles for all, free of charge.

Soldiers overflowed the dining hall, taking their meals in the stable yards and unoccupied guest chambers. They chatted, laughed, occasionally burst into bawdy song. Even through the joyous din, a few drifted off to sleep. The inn staff made no move to rouse them, inviting the others to stay the night as well. They would return to camp in the morning, sharpening their weapons and scavenging for arrows before packing up for the long road home. But now was a time for relief and relaxation.

Too exhausted to enjoy the festivities, Ren searched around for an unclaimed sleeping spot. He found Fei Gong sharing a mattress with Tianxi, the boy who had been carried off the battlefield. Tianxi's calf was bound up with a wooden splint. Gong sported a matching bandage from shoulder to elbow. Leaning on his unhurt arm, he began to stand. Ren motioned for him to sit back down.

"You're the leader," Gong protested.

"You're injured. Besides, you were here first." Ren inspected the recuperating duo. "How are you feeling?"

Gong gave a sheepish smile. "Feeling bad for falling out of the fight so quickly. But I helped with first aid." He indicated Tianxi's leg. "Yan finally got to show me how to set a broken bone."

"And it was only a crack. I'll be back to business in no time." Tianxi looked down. "Well, maybe in a month or two."

"Good work, both of you. You gave your all, and that's all I ask." Ren fetched a pillow and turned his eye to a corner of the room. "Now I suggest that we all get some sleep."

* * *

The soldiers woke at daybreak, taking a quick breakfast of gruel before heading off to retrieve their belongings from the field. As they rolled up their tents and set their weapons in order, a voice called out to them from the edge of the clearing. A ragged crew of bandits emerged from the forest with their empty hands lifted up in plain sight.

Also unarmed, Cao Ren walked over to greet the rabble. Their clothes were torn and stained, their hollow eyes weary with an odd mixture of resignation and hope. One stepped forward as leader.

"We're done. We've had enough. And we came to ask a favor."

The leader knelt before speaking again.

"We want to join you."


	13. Crossroads

A stable hand took the full quiver from Cao Ren's hands as his colleague led Thunder Cloud into a stall. "Not much hunting to be done, was there?"

"You could say that." Ren had shot a couple of pheasants to roast over the campfire, but the main purpose of his trip had been something else entirely. His militia was expanding, picking up more and more troops from villages around the region. Farmers' sons took up arms, inspired by the discipline of the youth marching in Ren's name. Miscreants became weary of running from the law. Though unable to train every newcomer personally, Ren could entrust the task to his subordinates. And he could sneak away to tour his bases of operation, ensuring that all was proceeding to his standards.

Pushing both himself and his dutiful horse to their limits, Ren had visited four towns in as many days. He plodded into the house with visions of a long bath and an early bedtime, leaving Thunder Cloud to contentedly nestle in the hay.

Ren sank down in the tub, relishing the heat as it soothed his tired muscles. The specter of school loomed over the morrow, but he refused to let it concern him. Now was a time to bask in the pride of his accomplishments. Ren had slept in the rain with his encampments, waking at sunrise to lead the morning drills. He had labored alongside a gang of former bandits who were fixing up an old hideout for the purposes of storing supplies and sheltering men. He had inspected weapons, tested the marksmanship of those who desired the privilege of wielding bows, and reviewed the rules of conduct to keep them at the forefront of each soldier's mind. Ren's troops had also been stepping up, sustaining themselves with minimal dependence on the allowance he was able to provide. They hunted, foraged, and did odd jobs for local residents eager to help out those willing to stay nearby and prevent trouble from brewing.

This trip had been a test of leadership, not merely one of physical endurance. Though many of the new recruits had welcomed Ren with strict attention, others had sulked and dawdled and slacked off at any chance they could take. Most had buckled down to his satisfaction. A few had carried on through the drills and the drudge work until Ren banished them from service with the order to leave their uniforms behind. Smirks had faded from their faces as they slunk off in their loincloths and the others fought the urge to enjoy a good laugh at their expense.

Jade Blossom's voice cut through the steam of the bath. "Everything all right in there?"

Ren sat up with a splash, only then realizing that he had dozed off. "It's fine. I'll be out in a moment."

"Good. We wouldn't want you to turn into a prune."

A laugh. "I don't think that's likely."

"Maybe so. But if anyone could manage that, it would be you."

A grin spread over Ren's face as he dried off and dressed himself. There was nothing like a proper welcome home.

* * *

Master Pan took a long, slow march to the front of the classroom. He clasped his hands together, pausing momentarily before addressing the students. "This is a day of great importance to you all."

Cao Ren's mind raced. He had forgotten to compose an essay - or study for a test - or perhaps master was in the mood for an impromptu writing assignment to be finished in class. It had been a while since he last pulled that trick.

"Many years ago, you entered school with your minds akin to a blank sheet of bamboo. You spun the beads of the abacus as if it were a toy, and you turned the writing brush over and over in your curious hands. From this humble beginning, you built a strong foundation of knowledge. You learned to count, then to add, then to solve complex problems of mathematics. You learned to read, then to write, then to understand the timeless wisdom inscribed by scholars.

"As you see, you began your education as boys." The teacher made a grand gesture with his staff, then began to pace the room in measured strides. "Now you shall prepare to make your way in the world as men. Some of you will study in Luoyang to refine your moral character."

Chun, who had been blathering incessantly about the imperial university as of late, perked up at its mention. Ren cast an imperceptible glance down at hands he had stained with the blood of a bandit leader. Hands that had cut a human life short for the sake of saving more, but the teachings made no allowance for such circumstances.

"As to others, I am not so certain." Master Pan shot a look at the student known for rambling essays and associated tantrums, who reddened in response. He then turned his eyes to Ren. "And I must say that some of you have surpassed my expectations."

Now it was Ren's turn to flush as he wondered what master would say if he knew the whole of it. He had surprised himself as well. A desperate effort to stay out of trouble had led to an honest improvement at school. A more purposeful use of his leisure time had become an enterprise of its own. And the two were racing toward an inevitable point of collision.

"From here forward, expect to be challenged beyond what I have asked of you thus far. Nothing less will ready you for the rigors of university and career. Regardless of where your paths are leading, I expect the utmost effort from you all." Master Pan thumped the floor next to a scatterbrained student, causing him to jolt to attention. "Tong! Kindly compose a poem for us - in the classic style, of course - about that daydream you were entertaining just now."

Ren stifled a snort as his unlucky classmate took up the brush and got to work. A longwinded lecture and an inventive punishment for those that it bored into slacking - master was in true form today.

* * *

Cao Ren lay awake, staring at the slotted splash of moonlight cast through the shutters onto the far wall of his room. He and Chun had discussed their upcoming year of school on the way home, which had been more like Chun chattering away while Ren gave an occasional nod to show that he was still paying attention. His mind had been consumed with questions that only grew wings as the conversation continued - and, hours later, had no plans to let him sleep.

Chun, who had developed a certain savvy about careers in the labyrinthine hierarchy of government, had suggested that Ren become a junior clerk. He would track grain deliveries or tax collections or the allocation of funds, serving the public well by ensuring that all went according to procedure. The work earned a generous salary, and it might not keep Ren in an office for the rest of his life. He could find his way into a position like Father's, training the cavalry from time to time.

Even so, the thought of it left him cold. At the helm of his army, Ren was out making a difference with his own voice and his own martial skill. Out achieving results that were right in front of him rather than hidden away beyond layers of bureaucracy. Out where he had no chance of losing touch with that which had driven him to lead in the first place.

Ren wondered where Father had been at this point in his life. Their time together had been spent on training rather than talking, and it was far too late to change that. Yet there were ways to draw on the wisdom of those who had passed long ago. Ren slipped out of bed and padded down the torchlit hall to the chamber where the family shrine was kept. He placed fresh incense in the brazier and set it aglow, breathing in its spiraling scent as it burned. Before the tablet bearing the name of his father, Ren dropped his head in silent prayer. _May I find the understanding to follow in your footsteps, and the strength to take that path as it leads me._


	14. Revelation

An early rise, a simple breakfast, a full day in the academy hall evaluating students' essays. Some instructors dreaded the tedium of such work. Master Pan saw it as a form of meditation. Though the writing varied from passable to perspicacious, each piece interested him in some regard. Astute pupils came up with clever turns of phrase and viewpoints that he had never thought of himself. A few assignments showed notable improvement from students who had struggled to string their thoughts together at the beginning of the year.

Yet others never learned. Master Pan opened a heavy scroll tied with extravagant silk cord, knowing the name on the seal without having to read it. Atop the slats was a silk scrap with a promise of gold and the signature of the student's father. Such foolishness. The essay may have contained a nugget of value among all the bluster. Thanks to this attempt at bribery, it was worth a failing mark and a full rewrite under threat of expulsion. Said rewrite would take place after class under the teacher's supervision, where not even the emperor's treasury could extricate the cheater from his fate.

An assistant poked his head into the office. "Cao Ren is here to see you."

"Send him in," Master Pan replied absently as he pulled another assignment from the pile.

The rhythmic tap of hard-soled shoes echoed down the hall, accompanied by a soft clanking. The footsteps grew closer, and Cao Ren entered the room in a full suit of armor. He wore a brass helmet with a black tassel of horsehair sprouting from the top. His chest was covered by a sheet of small rectangular plates, his thighs girded by padded silk sashes hanging from a wide belt. His hands were gloved, his feet clad in high leather boots rather than the usual woven sandals. Ren bowed, then returned to his firm posture.

Grasping for words, Master Pan pressed his lips together to ensure that his mouth was not hanging open. This was the boy who used to swagger along with no manners, no sense, no ambition other than weaseling out of his schoolwork to find more time to waste. Ren had cleaned up his act, but this presentation had nothing to do with any lesson that Master Pan had taught. Confusion swirled in the teacher's mind, and he had little sense of how to articulate it. And there Ren stood with his chest proud and his chin high, waiting for a response. Master Pan took a breath and spoke the first thought that came to him.

"Playing soldier now, are we?"

"I'm not playing soldier. I am one. Please allow me to demonstrate."

Still dumbfounded, Master Pan only nodded before getting up from his mat. Ren directed him to the courtyard adjoining the room, where thirty young men stood at attention in a grid precisely centered on the stone paving. Each wielded a long wooden staff and wore a neat uniform of short robe and pants. At a hand signal from Ren, they thumped the ground in unison.

"These are my men. I recruited them. I trained them to keep order in the rural areas plagued by banditry. And I taught a few to lead as well."

Ren signaled again, and a trooper took three steps forward and turned to face his colleagues. At his command, the soldiers cycled through a selection of exercises. They swung, thrust, guarded with their staves. They scattered into knots, formed a great circle, drew back into their original array. Each and every movement was performed with coordinated agility. It was a sight to behold and a clear indication of discipline that the former Ren could never have brought about on his own. Even so, the theory behind these movements left a sour taste in Master Pan's mouth. Those staves were trained for targets other than empty air.

"You say you keep order. Does this mean that you fight?"

Ren met his eyes. "Only when necessary, master."

"Why is it necessary for you to get involved?"

"The inspectors patrol the city to stop crime. The wealthy hire their own guards to keep them safe. The peasants have to look after themselves. I got involved because no one else would help them."

By the strictest interpretation of the teachings, Ren was no different from the rabble he sought to dispel. He may have been more organized, but he acted in the name of the law without its official sanction. Yet he made a valid point with the mention of private militias, reasonable protection for life and limb and property. Though Ren provided his own service rather than being beholden to some higher authority, his intent seemed promising. Any buffoon could get a horde of friends to follow him around for the promise of mischief and easy money. Ren had inspired a group of teenage boys to attain the bearing of imperial soldiers. Perhaps this was the result of a nobler motivation after all.

"Very good." It was a sincere compliment, misgivings aside. "Still, I must ask why you are showing all of this to me."

"These past few months of classwork have been focused on our paths." Ren nodded toward his troops. "This is mine. I ask your permission to leave the academy."

This time, Master Pan had quite a few words, which tangled together on the way out of his mouth. "What - why would you wish to do that? You're not stupid, you know - you've proved such to my satisfaction - you could be a clerk, a minister. So many years of scholarship - you're willing to turn your back on it all just like that?"

"It was not an easy decision, and it's not a waste of my schoolwork. I must set a strict example to be a good leader. How could I do so without the discipline I learned from you?"

In his earliest months under Master Pan's instruction, Ren had endured many a detention with the same defiance in his sullen eyes. Now he looked back on the experience as a favor. Tempted as he was to wring further deference out of the boy, the teacher could not help but feel a thrill of pride at this acknowledgement.

"So," Master Pan mused. "In some regard, I have set you on this path. Yet I can guide you down it no further. If you choose to quit the academy, you can never return. This endeavor of yours would not sit well with the regents." That was an understatement. If those old cronies had their say, Ren's demonstration would have had him flogged black and blue and thrown out on his rear end. Consequences of students' behavior were left for their instructors to decide, whether in terms of punishment or palm greasing sufficient to avoid it. A readmission would be out of Master Pan's hands and utterly out of the question.

A nod. "I understand."

Master Pan regarded Ren in a silent assessment of his veracity. Some time ago, a simple contest of patience would have snuffed out the bravado in the boy's eyes. Ren now displayed a determination far beyond impudence, the chiseled gaze of a statue keeping its thousand-year watch. He stood with calm strength, with contemplated purpose. He would not be broken again.

"I trusted that you would. Will you be leaving, then?"

Ren paused as if weighing the gravity of this final chance to change his mind. "Yes, master. I will." He bowed. "Thank you again for all you have taught me."

* * *

The march home sped by in a giddy blur. Cao Ren vaguely felt the curious stares of townspeople, merchants, a uniformed inspector doddering down the road on horseback. He shrugged them off just as he had given a jubilant dismissal to Gai's inquiries about his talk with the teacher. Ren had left school on amicable terms, evidenced by the letter Master Pan had written for him on the way out. Now he was prepared to face his family.

A servant summoned Mother and Chun to the front yards. Their brows rose in identical expressions of shock as they got a full view of Ren and the formation lined up behind him. As before, Ren explained his activity and stood aside while Gai led the drills. The landscaped yard offered less room for maneuvering than the open terrace of the academy, but the soldiers worked around trees and rock gardens with aplomb. After the fanfare had finished, Ren handed over his note from Master Pan.

Chun cast a silent glance at Mother, deferring the initial reaction to her. When she spoke, her eyes were grave.

"That's your father's uniform. Is this how you respect his memory? By quitting your studies?"

A stable hand had unearthed the armor from storage and sent it off to be cleaned. The boots were tight on Ren's wide feet, the coat of plates loose on his chest that was still broadening into its adult girth. The helmet slipped forward from time to time. Yet the belt sat securely on his hips, anchored by the reassuring weight of its sashes, and the overall effect had surprised Ren when he allowed himself a long look in the mirror. He was not known to gaze at his own reflection. Ren might need to wash his face or fix his topknot or see whether the remnants of a scuffle were darkening into bruises. Details aside, those glimpses had shown him nothing but his same old self. Dressed in the garb of his father, Ren saw his plans and endeavors coming to fruition.

"No. I respect his memory by leading men just as he did, to serve the common people."

"It isn't the same." Mother nodded at the house. "Come inside. We will talk this over."

* * *

Cao Ren dismissed his troops and left his armor in the care of the stable hands. He went inside to the chambers where Mother and Chun awaited him, seated next to each other like two peas in a disapproving pod. There was no tea, no fruit, no other form of refreshment. Nothing but tension hanging thick in the air, a tangible silence that weighed on them all until Mother spoke up to break it.

"Your father had an appointment. A title. I don't see any equivalent in your future."

"I may not have a title." This former concern no longer mattered to Ren. Even if earned by merit, a title was a mere string of words. Achievements spoke for themselves, regardless of any arbitrary designation that came along for the ride. "But I do have a career."

"As what?" Chun snapped. "Mercenary?"

"Peacekeeper."

Chun snorted. "Same difference."

Mother shot him with a look. "Hold your tongue. We're having a discussion, not an argument." She turned to Ren. "A career implies steady income. How will you earn that?"

"The same way I've been supporting my troops. Villagers pay my men to patrol the area. They give us fruit from their orchards and fields to camp in. There's plenty of game to be hunted, too." Ren did not mention the hefty contribution from his own spending money. Most of that had gone toward equipment that would not need to be replaced for a while, especially with the diligent maintenance that his soldiers performed.

"What if that all runs dry?"

Ren wanted to say that it would not, but this was no time for flippancy. "I can teach archery or horsemanship. Or both. It's skilled work, is it not?"

Chun nodded. He and Ren had obtained some of their martial instruction from private tutors.

"I could be a hunting guide. I know the wilderness well enough. Or I could offer my protection for hire."

_Mercenary_, Chun mouthed on the sly. If Mother caught wind of the insult, she gave no indication. "I can see that you've thought this through," she said. "Still, it does not seem wise."

"What is wise, then?" Ren demanded. "Watching farmers die on the road because no one would fight off the criminals who went after them? Expecting the officials to help when they don't give a damn to begin with? Maybe I'm a fool after all. But I'd rather be a fool who made a difference in the best way he could."

No one responded. Mother dropped her gaze to the table for a long moment that seemed to steal Ren's breath as it stretched out in front of him. She sat up on her heels, composing herself before speaking.

"Master Pan saw fit to send you on your way with honor." She glanced at Chun, then met Ren's eyes once again. "We shall do the same."

Ren blinked back tears of gratitude, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. "And I will go forth with honor as well."

Mother smiled. "I know you will."

* * *

Cao Ren's outfit is an approximation of the layered armor that would be worn by a cavalry commander in the Han Dynasty. It takes a few aesthetic cues from his game costumes, which were inspired by a similar understanding of period armor.


	15. Challenge

The city of Yingshang stretched along the Huai river rather than huddling around a nondescript junction of the high roads. Its walls stood neat and proud instead of moldering under a perpetual shroud of dreary weather. And it brought the same thrill of excitement that Cao Ren remembered from his first glimpse of that humble country hamlet so many months ago. He had moved in on many more towns since then, but the joy of discovery never lost its appeal. Nor did the appreciation in faces that sometimes viewed Ren and his fellows with skepticism until they had a chance to prove themselves.

At first it had been a struggle. Ren had scrimped and saved and planned for a frugal budget, with help from his farming fellows' expertise at surviving on a pittance. There was grain porridge twice a day, sometimes an occasional piece of fruit. Despite the groans of those who wished to stuff their stomachs, Ren insisted that spoils of the hunt be dried into jerky and handed out sparingly. Some of his soldiers found that their modest rations were better than what they had eaten back home. Accustomed to the flavorful meals from the kitchen of his family's estate, Ren required some time to adjust. A spare diet seemed reasonable over a few days' travel. After a month on the road, Ren choked the food down without making any attempt to taste it. When there was no meat to go around, he forced himself into fitful sleep as his empty stomach tried to gnaw itself into satiation.

Ren could have gone to an establishment for a satisfying dinner and a hot bath before bedtime, but he refused to take this privilege. He expected the same from his leaders, giving Teng an earful for sneaking off to an inn in the height of a rain storm. _Camp didn't meet your standards?_ _Then you'll be in charge of setting it up. _Teng had complied with a grumble, but he had slept in a tent from then on. The others' muttering about his spoiled rich attitude had settled down soon after.

After two seasons of scraping, Ren had returned home for a break. Mother had inquired as to whether he was giving up. After learning that he was not, she had surprised him with the money that would otherwise have paid his tuition. This enabled another wave of expansion, bringing in troops that allowed Ren to branch out to larger towns and cities. These populous territories brought greater prestige, greater rewards. The rations became heartier, the weaponry more impressive.

Yet this all required Ren to surmount greater expectations. Yingshang's prosperity had been attracting well-connected bandit gangs. It would also provide Ren with valuable sustenance if he could serve as its guardian. Hu Xu had developed a certain aptitude for digging up all sorts of handy information. He sought men to recruit, uncovered the best foraging spots, and smelled trouble before it had a chance to brew. Under his guidance, a group of talented soldiers had traveled out to the city for a scouting excursion. Ren was now bringing a team of his own to meet up with them, to review their findings and develop a plan for proceeding.

A discreet scrap of fabric had been tied to a tree branch near the road. Upon a closer look, the newly blazed trail became apparent. Ren led the way through the woods, noticing a burnt smell that grew strong and sour as he approached the camp. He readied his bow, and the men accompanying him gripped their weapons as well. This was not the residue of a cooking fire.

Charred remains of tents littered the clearing. Staves were scattered on the ground as if abandoned before the fight began. The greenery rustled, and a figure stepped forth. Ren raised his bow before realizing that it was only Hu Xu. The scout approached with lowered eyes, falling to his knees before Ren.

"We were ambushed. Didn't stand a chance. It happened so fast, all we could do was run."

"I understand." Ren met his eyes. "Are you injured?"

Xu shook his head no.

"How about the rest of your men?"

"We're hiding." Xu got to his feet and nodded toward the forest. "Follow me."

* * *

Hu Xu's fellows crept from their well-concealed tents as Cao Ren approached their hideout. When he sat with them to talk, they babbled all at once.

"They were supernatural."

"Mystics."

"Hollering about some Way of Peace."

Ren's stomach dropped. "Yellow Turbans," he said automatically.

"Yeah." Xu nodded. "They had those too."

"I'm sure they did. That's how they identify themselves." Ren scratched his chin, which was covered by a beard that he had given up on shaving. The whisker itch was long gone, but a new one nagged at his mind. "Why are they still fighting?"

The others waited for Ren to explain. He took a few moments to set his thoughts in order.

"The Yellow Turbans are a religious sect. Faith healers, I think - something along those lines. Not so long ago, they threw a rebellion all across the north. It took the Empire a year to defeat them. One of my relatives fought in that war." Some years older and a commander by profession, cousin Cao Cao had led imperial forces to victory in the counter campaign. His exploits had spread throughout the family in letters that Ren had caught up with on his rare visits home. "Their leaders were killed, and the rebellion stopped soon after. Maybe these Turbans are only displaced." Ren's voice was grim. "Or maybe they're getting ready for another go."

"So they're more than just bandits," Xu said.

Ren nodded. "In a sense, yes. Underneath, they're all the same. They spread disorder and win by fear. The difference is that the Turbans formed an army of their own. They had more numbers, better organization - and a mastery of intimidation."

"And magic," someone volunteered.

Ren shook his head. "I doubt that."

"Easy for you to say when you weren't there to see it. I'm telling you. They were shooting fire out of their sleeves."

The eyes of Xu's soldiers showed the same palpable distress that Cao Cao had noted in his reports from the front. Imperial troops had broken formation and fled, howling about dust clouds and flash floods and shadowed figures pouring from the bowels of the storm. The rumors of sorcery had grown teeth and fangs as the war dragged on, as if the zeal of the Turbans' belief had managed to brainwash their opponents as well. When Ren was a child, rustling branches had him peering out the window with a pounding heart and a clenched fist ready to smash an imaginary intruder. It seemed that grown men could still lose their sense in the face of battlefield terror, even without bad weather involved. By all indication, the Turbans had taken torches to Xu's camp. Yet half his men were convinced that the foes had conjured flame with their very hands.

Cao Cao's letters were not a treatise on the Turbans, nor were they peer to the fabled military texts forbidden from civilian eyes. Even so, they told Ren all he needed to know.

Xu spoke up, breaking the long silence. "So are we leaving?"

"No." Ren fixed the group with a firm gaze. "We're fighting back."


	16. Collaboration

Hu Xu knew few specifics about the troublemakers near Yingshang, but he had been unknowingly closing in on them. The Yellow Turbans' ambush had given them away. En route to his hidden settlement, Xu had pointed out a faint trail heading up north from the burnt clearing. Hastily beaten by fleeing Turbans, it had become obscured with dense greenery springing back to cover it. Even so, it was clear enough to Cao Ren. Still wary from the attack, Xu had not pursued the trail. As he retreated to make camp in a safer location, Ren led an elite squad of archers into the woods.

Though the path eventually faded, it guided Ren far enough. The trees thinned soon after he lost the trail, revealing a fortress perched on the summit of a distant hill. Built of stout wood, the garrison was further protected by barricades of spikes sunk into the surrounding earth. Yellow flags flew from its high walls. The stronghold was a prime target to take over. A secure foothold into the region, a base of operations from which to pacify Yingshang for good.

* * *

Further back down the high road, Hu Xu and his men were camped near a well-traveled mail post. They had salvaged some of their tents, and soldiers busied themselves sewing patches over the worst of the holes. Cao Ren's banner flew high in the center of their circle, a defiant mark of pride. Though beaten once, they were not about to run scared.

Indeed, Xu had put the ambush behind him. When Ren briefed him about the Turban stronghold, his eyes lit up with zeal to besiege it. Ren's squads were used to dealing with marauding bandits and loosely guarded hideouts. Breaching these walls would pose a new challenge. Ren and Xu discussed ladders and sneak attacks and other means of forcing their way inside. Though they disagreed on some tactical details, one fact was certain - they needed more troops. From the size of it, the fortress held at least fifty men. Ren and Xu had about as many between the two of them.

As evening fell, a throng of young men moved into the meadow. Their leader, a lanky fellow with a cocksure gaze, swaggered over to Ren's settlement for an introduction. "Since we're sleeping in this same field, I'd say we ought to get to know each other." He gave a sharp nod. "Call me Lifeng."

A bow in response. "Cao Ren."

"So you're leading soldiers." Lifeng indicated his group, which was setting up camp of its own. "As am I. Can I ask what for?"

"I'm a peacekeeper. I patrol villages, put a stop to banditry."

"Peacekeeper." Lifeng smirked. "Strange name for a guy who goes out to fight."

"Come on now. You understand why it's necessary."

"Of course. Just making a joke, that's all." Lifeng clapped Ren on the shoulder. "I'm right there with you. We wiped out a whole nest of criminals on our way over here. Took all the coin and wine we could carry. Best haul we've had in a while."

Ren nodded. "Where did this happen?"

Lifeng jerked his head toward the south. "Some pisshole of a village back that way. Bandits took it over, turned it into a fort. Built a wall around it and everything. Clever bastards - and a whole lot of them, too. They put up one hell of a fight, but they were no match for us."

"How were their numbers compared to yours?"

"I've got about twenty. They had three times that, maybe more. It's hard to count the hordes when they're running away from you." Lifeng shrugged. "But you can count the bodies, and there were plenty of those to go around."

That last line stuck with Ren as Lifeng continued to boast about his victory. His men had shown an impressive degree of flexibility, riding the flow of battle to stay abreast of enemy ploys. Lifeng kept a top team and knew how to turn it loose. Yet the glint in his eye was unsettling. Ren had killed, and he fronted soldiers who did the same. Even so, these deaths were never enough to measure the strength of an opposing force. Rabble would rather flee than run to their own slaughter.

Then again, Lifeng had called it one hell of a fight. Perhaps it was a bloodier skirmish than any Ren had ever seen. He put the thought in the back of his mind, choosing to focus on common ground instead of nitpicking an offhand remark. Lifeng had a similar opposition to banditry, and he also had troops who could triumph over much greater numbers. It would take days of communication and travel for Ren to bring in more men of his own.

Their conversation ended with an invitation to dinner at Lifeng's camp, where the flasks were already being passed with great enthusiasm. Ren had last enjoyed a bowl of wine on a distant trip home, and its fruited spice brought a welcome warmth to his stomach. He savored the libation, declining the subsequent helpings that Lifeng tried to foist upon him.

"Drink up, why don't you?" Lifeng raised his flask. "It's all on me."

"I've had my fill, thanks."

A snort. "What, you can't hold your liquor? That's a shame."

"No, it's not that." While out on patrol, Ren had made a habit of unwinding in small doses that would not distract him from his greater concern. Lifeng seemed content to enjoy himself as he wished when there was no immediate responsibility. As did his men, who celebrated the night with raucous glee. Ren felt most secure with a sense of discipline, subtle as it might be. Even now, he kept a kneeling posture while Lifeng sprawled on the ground.

"Your loss." Discovering that his flask was dry, Lifeng left momentarily to fetch a refill. "You know, I never asked. Who are you out here to fight?"

"Yellow Turbans. They ambushed my scouts and left a trail behind. I marked a path to their hideout."

"Turbans, eh?" A sly grin spread over Lifeng's face. "I'd say we can help you out with that."

"And I was about to ask you the same."

* * *

Cao Ren and his men awoke while Lifeng's camp was still fast asleep. They performed their drills, ate breakfast, and took a brisk bath in the nearby creek. Ren scratched a crude map of the Yellow Turban fort in a patch of dirt, waving Hu Xu over to continue their discussion from the day before. The stronghold was simply constructed, and no watchmen had been stationed outside. Even so, Ren insisted on visualizing his plan. He wished to see the wooden walls, the approach up the hill, the Turbans' first response. The rest might be a blank, but a strong start was crucial to tipping the odds in their favor.

The sun grew bright in the sky, finally rousing Lifeng from his tent. His fellows stumbled out after him as he wandered over to Ren. "When did you get up?" Lifeng yawned.

"Daybreak."

"That's early."

"That's usual." Ren found it difficult to sleep much later, even when he was resting at home. "Anyhow. Are you awake enough to talk plans?"

Lifeng stretched his arms, bounced on his toes. "All set." He stopped. "Wait. We need a plan?"

A quizzical look. "Why wouldn't we?"

"Run in, let loose. Scare the enemy before they scare you. That's all the plan I've ever needed."

"And then what?"

Lifeng shrugged. "Whatever works, of course."

This mindset echoed Ren's concept of a powerful first strike, and Lifeng's fellows had shown the requisite skills for taking care of the rest. Even so, Lifeng was strangely casual about leading his men into a situation that he knew little about. He also seemed to forget the most important consideration of all.

"What if it doesn't work?"

"That's never been a problem." Lifeng smirked. "I trust my men to know what to do."

"As do I," Ren replied tightly. "And they trust me not to gamble with their lives."

"Bullshit. We both do that, and you know it."

"A good plan is a calculated bet. A hasty attack - a fool's wager."

Lifeng glared. "You're calling me a fool?"

"Not if you know what you're doing."

"Oh, I do." Lifeng cast his gaze to a mock duel between two of his soldiers. The men jabbed and dodged and parried with blinding speed, and the winning blow was a blur to Ren's eye. "I know my men, and I know their abilities. You really think I get in over my head for fun?"

Ren thought just that, but he bit his tongue. "I think you're about as set in your ways as I am."

An amused snort. "Can't argue there."

"But I also think we can come to an agreement. You lead your men, and I'll lead mine. All I ask is that you be willing to go where you're needed. Trust me with the overall scheme, and I'll trust you with the details."

Lifeng shrugged. "Sounds fair to me."

"Good." Ren smiled. "Then we'll make a fine team."


	17. Conquest

Lifeng's mouth curled into a grin as the Yellow Turban fortress came into view. "So that's the prize."

Cao Ren nodded. "That's our target, yes."

"You know the deal, chief. Just give us the signal."

Lifeng had been addressing Ren with some variant of that title since their initial agreement of collaboration. Not sure whether it was meant to be complimentary or condescending, Ren saw it as a bit of both. They had their obvious differences. Lifeng's training was more leisurely than organized, carried out in duels led off by taunting and finished with whoops of celebration. His men regularly slept until the lunch hour. And they had stripped to the waist for this raid, painting stripes onto their rangy torsos. Clad in light leather armor, Ren and his front line leaders had raised their brows in surprise. The response - _You see, boss, we don't get hit._

Ren had no intention of being injured himself, but that was beside the point. His concern was preparation, which Lifeng shrugged off like the wine he guzzled each night. Ren had fought the temptation to lecture Lifeng and his men, seeing enough of his younger self in them to understand the futility of such instruction. The mercenaries refused to take any action unless they had convinced themselves of its value. Ren might fear for their safety, but it was not his place to interfere with the basics of their operation.

Furthermore, that was part of their deal. Lifeng had compromised his independence to let Ren dictate the master plan. In return, Ren respected the mercenaries' brotherhood. He also invited their input based on proven expertise. Lifeng had insisted on swarming the walls - running in and letting loose, same as he had done on his prior campaign. That was fine by Ren, as the mercenaries seemed best suited for this task.

Lifeng and his fellows waited in a loose knot with short swords on their belts and rope ladders in hand, and Ren's soldiers stood nearby to back them. Ren faced the fortress, then raised his flag high. A great downward swoop, and the mercenaries were off and running. Though the men had not started in any recognizable formation, they assaulted the stronghold with systematic elegance. Ladders were thrown over the walls in a neat line, and the raiders flowed up and over before the Turbans on the inner watchtowers could react to the intrusion. As Ren began his charge, he saw an archer get shoved out of the fort to a painful landing on the scrubby earth. Clutching his arm, the Turban staggered off into the hills. Ren wondered if the mercenary had been trying to throw him onto the spikes instead.

Though lacking the grace of Lifeng, Ren and his crew moved quickly enough. They clambered into the stronghold, dropping onto the watchtowers and then down into the ensuing ruckus. As planned, the mercenaries were wresting control of the eastern gate. Already reeling from the furor of this assault, the guards began to buckle once Ren joined the melee. The gate was soon forced open, and the rest of the troops charged in. They advanced as a living wall, pressing the Turbans back toward the opposite end of the fortress where they could escape through the other exit. Better for the enemy to flee than fight - especially if they might seek Ren's service for a different sort of way out.

The Turbans were not so easily persuaded. Ren and his fellows struggled for ground, driving forward through the blows and insults rained upon them. Archery was a needless risk in such chaos. The Turbans improvised with rocks and animal bones and any other debris on hand, and they cried out in the name of the Heaven that riled them to raise hell. Ren kept a strict focus on the zealots in front of him, barely flinching when a stone bounced off his helmet. Only later would he recall that it had just missed his eye.

Step by patient step, Ren's troops continued to advance. Though the front line Turbans kept up their bluster, the din of their crowd began to die down. The far gate sneaked open, showing a sliver of landscape before slamming shut. And again and again, longer and longer each time. Ren let forth a resounding battle cry, and his men forged onward with renewed vigor. The enemy was on the run.

The spirit drained out of the remaining Turbans as their fellows trickled out of the fort. Their leaders banded together for one last stand, but Ren's elite guard put a quick end to it. The captives knelt with proud shoulders and inscrutable expressions. Ren lowered his own weapon before approaching them.

"Greetings. I am Cao Ren, leader of these troops."

Silence.

"You fight for the commoners." Ren indicated a group of soldiers who had lined up behind him. "So do we. They need stability, not mayhem."

The head Turban's voice was tinged with venom. "Stability cannot arise from false authority. And Heaven will punish you for such blasphemous claims of power."

"I don't claim the will of Heaven. I only claim to serve the people as well as I can."

"The people cannot be served until the Empire is destroyed. That beast is dying. We will put an end to its misery. If you truly care, then you will join us in our cause."

"That's not an option I wish to take."

"I see." A glare, cold and flat as steel. "Then you're just as corrupt as the rest of them."

Commonalities were found in shades of gray. These Turbans only saw black and white, and therefore Ren saw no chance at reconciliation. "So we can't come to an agreement." He brought out his blade, and the guardsmen did the same. "In that case, I can't let you go free."

The leaders took their deaths with dignity, with heads held high as their throats were slashed. In a sense, they were more dangerous than the bandit assassin Ren had executed so long ago. They spoke with confidence, brainwashing their followers over the malignant edge of a clear divide. One was either Turban or heathen - friend or foe - and the foes were to be assailed without question.

"Well played, boss. Nice and clean." Lifeng popped up, flicking a thumb back over his shoulder. "We caught a load of them ourselves. Want to do the honors?"

The load turned out to be a team of twenty soldiers. Their hands were empty, their foreheads touched to the earth in supplication. Unlike the more well-heeled Turbans, who had been equipped with basic armor, they wore uniforms of cloth. Lifeng poked one in the back of the neck with his staff, eliciting a shiver in response. "Pigs for the slaughter," he smirked.

A weight began to form in Ren's stomach. "Did they refuse surrender?"

"Was I supposed to ask?"

Ren indicated the slain leaders. "I gave them that choice." He then offered the same to Lifeng's prisoners, introducing himself and his cause.

The Turban soldiers replied agreeably, though their voices were muffled by the ground. Ren ordered the mercenaries to allow the captives into a kneeling position before he spoke to them again.

"Will you serve under my banner, alongside myself and these men?"

They responded as a group. "We will."

"Very good." Ren motioned for the soldiers to stand. "Help the rest of us clean this place up and repair the gates. Afterward, I will need any information you can provide about your old comrades."

The former Turbans bowed deeply, heads to the ground once more, before Hu Xu took over to assign them specific tasks. Ren and Lifeng surveyed the walls, discussing ways to modify them so that no one else could pull that same rope ladder trick again. They decided on crowning the fortress with outward pointing spikes, which would be nigh impossible to latch onto and surmount.

When they were alone in a corner of the stronghold, Lifeng dropped his voice to a whisper. "Why didn't you just let me kill them?"

"That's not how I work."

"Then what is? Babysitting any old riffraff too chickenshit to take what's coming to them?"

"I was riffraff myself. So were some of my best men. If you had known me some time ago, you'd have never guessed me for a leader."

A snort. "I'm not sure I do now."

Ren swallowed a snide response, refusing to give in to his rising agitation. "I believe I've demonstrated my abilities."

"So did I, and you said you'd trust me with the details. And guess what. You just went back on your word."

"No." Ren met Lifeng's glower head on. "I trusted you with details that fit the plan. You managed your men in your own way, and you led the first strike on this fortress. Senseless killing was never part of this campaign."

"Senseless?" Lifeng laughed. "What hole did you crawl out of? Bad seeds have this way of popping back up. Better to burn them where they stand."

"Better to see if they'll grow."

"Oh, they will. Just not in the way you want them to."

Ren glanced over at a formerly illiterate ex-bandit who was taking a written inventory of the supplies in storage. "You might be surprised."

Lifeng raised a wary brow. "And I'd say the same to you."


	18. Investigation

Life at Yingshang proceeded at a steady pace. The stronghold had been reinforced, its walls topped with sharpened logs as Cao Ren and Lifeng had discussed. Soldiers hunted and made jerky to supplement the grain reserves in the storehouse. Weapons were bought, constructed, maintained. With fresh information from the Yellow Turban recruits, Hu Xu resumed his surveys. He learned that many of the Turbans had fled the region, and the rest had scattered into disorganized camps which were of little concern to Ren. Without their base and their leadership, they were ill equipped to cause trouble.

They still made themselves a nuisance, regrouping to launch a counterattack at the fortress. Their assault was as fruitless as the initial defense, called off after an assortment of failed approaches. Ren's troops pushed over their hastily built ladders and unleashed volleys of arrows at the squads attempting to set up a makeshift sort of siege tower. Lifeng led a noisy rush into the fray before the archers could hold their fire. He and his mercenaries returned unscathed, scoffing at Ren's annoyance with their recklessness. _Told you we don't get hit._

Lifeng had stopped addressing Ren with some title of superiority, sarcastic or otherwise. Ren let it go. Though they camped at the same fort and faced a common enemy, an invisible wall had grown between them. They still showed solidarity in front of their men, collaborating in a tenuous silence when their duties brought them together. Better to keep quiet than to risk conversation with a way of turning to barbs, whether thrown with force or laid beneath a calm veneer.

Once they happened to share the evening watch when the Turban recruits were praying in the nearby forest. Ren had brought a snack of wild berries, which they ate one by one as if to avoid taking more than their exact half. Lifeng snorted as the chanting arose from the trees. "There they go again."

Ren plucked another berry out of the bag, hoping to bore Lifeng into silence by refusing to respond. The former Turbans had proven their allegiance to him during the defense of the stronghold. Considering their faith to be separate from their former loyalties, Ren allowed them to carry on with their ceremonies. Most of the others had agreed, though some remained wary of the recruits. At the very least, Ren's men preferred to accept his authority even if they did not yet understand the reasoning behind it. Lifeng saw discourse as a sparring match to be won at any cost, even if it took both participants down for a brawl in the dirt. Ren would rather prove himself where it counted, and he had little patience for useless spats.

"If it were up to me, I'd smack that hot air right out of them."

"Would you do the same to my shrine?" Ren kept the essentials in miniature - a simple brass bowl, a palm-sized tablet for his father - along with a polished stone from the creek where he had learned to swim as a boy. They occupied a corner of his tent, laid out on a square of brocade.

"Maybe." Lifeng shrugged. "Same shit, different flavors. At least that's the way I see it."

Ren bristled. "I see it as something that brings comfort. And I can't find any harm in that."

"You don't think it makes you soft? Weak?" A raised brow. "I have to say, I'm surprised a hardass like you is into that."

"For me, it's a reminder of home." Ren's observances were far from ideal, as prayers and offerings fell by the wayside when he was up at dawn and asleep at the moment his head touched the pillow. Even so, the shrine kept him grounded throughout his most distant travels.

"Home." Lifeng gave a dismissive laugh. "Never had one of those, either. What's the point of it, anyway? Just one more rope to tie you down."

Ren let the conversation drop, realizing that an explanation would be futile. He took pride in his settlements, though none of them had the sense of warmth and kinship that he felt on his family's estate. Lifeng seemed born to drift wherever he saw fit, and the possibility of more action was about all that kept him around. His rashness made him both an asset and a liability. Lately, Ren saw him as more of the latter, especially as their common ground continued to dwindle. He only prayed that it would not disappear before Lifeng decided to be on his way.

* * *

Hu Xu had been born into a family of sneaks. His eldest brother would wander around Qiaocheng city after nightfall, pilfering charms from the belts of bureaucrats too drunk to care. Another took pride in ripping off the owner of their family's farm, shorting the grain payments in increments that the greedy landholder would be hard pressed to perceive. Xu had a way of overhearing information meant for audiences other than himself. His keen ears served him well as a scout, and they saved his hide on more occasions than one. Catching whispers of the servant's price that the landholder was offering for his head, Xu had slipped just as secretly into the night.

Xu now slipped through a village nestled in the hills near Yingshang. The locals took little notice of him, going about their business with a quiet sort of industry. Growing up, Xu had resented his unremarkable appearance. He lacked the swagger of his older brothers, their easy smirk and glint of eye that distracted the neighbor's daughters from their chores whenever they were all working outside at once. Xu had come to realize that invisibility had its advantages, especially in such strange territory.

Which it certainly was, and not just in the sense of unfamiliarity. The town was surrounded with high earthen walls although its buildings were as plain as any others dotting the rural outskirts. There were no gangs of idle young men looking for work, none of the hushed grumbles about highway robbery that had been floating around the streets of Yingshang. Though the townsfolk continued to pay Xu no mind, he repeatedly felt eyes on the back of his head.

Too exposed for his comfort, Xu bought himself lodgings at the local inn. He selected a room facing the main road and sat down with a careful eye to the shutters. As before, he saw nothing of note. Just another nameless town full of anonymous people walking and talking and milling about. But they were not as ordinary as they seemed, and Xu had no evidence for this thought. Only a feeling, same as that prior awareness of being watched.

Xu allowed his eyes to close as the sunlight mellowed into evening. Sometime after nightfall, the clop of horse hooves jolted him awake. A carriage had stopped to let off a group of well-dressed men. Their sleeves and skirts were wide, their waists adorned by heavy strings of carved jade ornaments that gleamed in the light of the carriage lanterns. That same light revealed scabbards tucked into each side of the travelers' sashes. Dual daggers, openly displayed - and Xu had no doubt that the men would wield them with expertise.

Xu could make no sense of the murmured talk outside. When the travelers passed his chamber on the way to their own, he only caught an offhand remark about being in desperate need of a drink. Xu's heart quickened. Alcohol sparked conversation, raised voices, and sent caution to the wind. Over the past months, it had been responsible for countless scraps of rumor that he had stitched together into useful information. A few moments later, those sturdy footsteps headed back down the corridor. Xu counted off a long and patient interval before following them.

The inn's tavern was dim and quiet. Lone patrons sat here and there, and the travelers occupied a large table tucked in a corner of the odd-shaped room. There were no windows on the adjacent walls, no nearby mats where Xu could pretend to select a spot at random. He bought a dinner tray from the taciturn innkeeper and sat where the men could be observed with a sidelong glance.

They gambled with gaudy flair, trading stacks of coin and trinkets around the table. The innkeeper joined them for a few rounds before quitting with a laugh and his empty hands thrown up in defeat. The men's voices became rough and raucous, fueled by wine flasks brought to their table in armloads. Not content to win at wagers, they began to trade verses about roadside fights and loose women. Each tale outdid the last, as was typical in such establishments. Yet these were downright boorish, told with a stony confidence beneath the bombast of liquor - almost as if they had come from personal experience. Though no stranger to vulgarity, Xu soon decided that he had heard enough.

Sleep came late, thin, and interrupted by every creak of the shutters. Even so, Xu was wide awake before breakfast. He ate his gruel and sipped his tea, barely tasting either as he watched the innkeeper tidy up the otherwise empty tavern. Xu had questions to ask, and his words were often too direct for delicate situations. He did better at listening between the lines than at speaking between them himself. At least there were other ways to soften an inquiry.

Xu approached the counter, catching the innkeeper's eye. He laid a coin on the scarred wooden surface. "Who were those men that came in last night?"

The proprietor turned his back, continuing to sort dishware onto the shelves as if nothing had been said.

A heavier coin, clinked against the first. "The gamblers."

The innkeeper pricked up his ears but gave no further response.

Xu heaped a handful of money on the counter. "Those gamblers."

A flat glance from the corner of the man's eye. "No one you need to know about."

Inwardly wincing, Xu emptied his pouch of next month's scouting allowance. "And what if I do?"

The innkeeper faced him at last. He wordlessly swept the money into some hidden receptacle, then leaned forward with slitted eyes. "Here's a tip."

Xu found himself unable to breathe as the man brought a knife in front of his face. The blade whipped down in a dread flash, a finger's breadth from its target.

"Stick that long nose of yours elsewhere before someone cuts it off."

Xu held the innkeeper's glare as he backed away. Only in the streets did he turn and run.


	19. Action

The same untold story hid in every local village. Heads turned away from visitors as ears perked up to keep track of them. Rings adorned the hands of laborers, and young girls toddled around in enough beaded necklaces to choke a courtesan. Affluent men passed through from time to time, traveling in packs with their daggers on proud display. The specifics were beyond Cao Ren's reach, but the overall picture was clear enough.

Ren spent his days deep in thought, mulling over plans that all seemed equally useless. Small wonder that bandits ran so rampant around here. They had bought the commoners' loyalty. Ren had only dealt with isolated areas of hostile territory, settlements and outposts that he had turned to his favor. With the entire Yingshang periphery sheltering criminals, he saw no way forward.

One quiet evening, Hu Xu approached Ren as he sat alone near the stronghold. "Any ideas?"

"If I had any, I'd have told you by now." The reply was spoken more snappishly than he intended. "Sorry. I should keep my irritation to myself."

"Maybe you should talk about it. You haven't been in your right mind lately."

"I suppose not. I'm at a loss." Ren stared off into the sky as if answers were tied to the setting sun. "What am I to do? I can't match their bribes, and I can't win by force. I'd need numbers, and I don't see a way to get them. Perhaps I'll find a few, but that's not nearly enough." Those few would have to be tracked down at great risk to Ren's scouts - too high a price for a futile campaign.

"You know what I'd say." Xu met Ren's eyes. "No shame in leaving."

Lifeng appeared. "Sure there is."

Ren regarded him with narrowed eyes. "Weren't you about to move on yourself?"

"I heard talk of bandits. That means I'm staying. But that's beside the point." Lifeng plopped down next to them. "You came all the way out here, you set yourself up in this fort, and now what? You're giving up already?" He shook his head. "What a waste."

"It would be more of a waste to try anything." Xu shot him a look. "Didn't you catch that part while you were nosing around just now?"

"Oh, I did. I still don't buy it." Lifeng turned to Ren. "You play it too safe, you know."

"Is that a problem?"

"When it keeps you from getting anything done? I'd say so."

"And I'd say it's senseless to get my men killed when we have no hope of overwhelming the enemy."

"With that attitude?" A snort. "I guess you're right. I don't see much hope for you."

Lifeng jumped to his feet and sauntered away, leaving Xu and Ren to their silence.

* * *

Lifeng lived for conquest. He taunted his sparring partners until they gang rushed him in an attempt to wipe the smirk off his face. He dreamed of destroying imagined hordes that no other would dare to challenge. And he came alive in the thick of the fight, riding the knife edge between victory and death as his instincts led the way to triumph.

The Turban fortress takeover had been more like a scuffle. One little surprise attack, and the swine had buckled like any bully who finally got his deserved punch in the mouth. Lifeng could not sneak up on the local bandit gangs in the same manner, but he would give them enough of a shock. And if they were too much for Cao Ren to handle - his loss, Lifeng's gain. No nerve, no glory, nothing to show for the trip. At least one of them had the sense to strike at an opportunity dangling in front of him.

The mercenaries left after late watch, making their way by moonlight. They bedded down near the first town they saw and enjoyed a nap until midmorning. If the talk was true, this place would be as good as any other. No point in poking around any further along the road.

Lifeng marched into the quiet village with a couple of associates tailing him. When he entered the ramshackle tavern, he was alone. Just him and the barkeep, just two men about to have a chat. Lifeng walked up to the counter, receiving a disinterested stare of inquiry in return.

"Tell me who's in charge around here." Lifeng fixed the man's eyes with his own. "And tell me when they'll be back."

"It's my tavern." A shrug. "Should be obvious that I'm in here right now."

"It's not really yours, is it?"

The barkeep tilted his head quizzically as if the question meant nothing. The guardedness of his gaze said otherwise.

"You get paid, don't you?" Key word emphasized.

"People bring me money. I cook them food. That's business and all." A raised brow. "What, you think I give handouts?"

"No. But I know you get them."

The barkeep shook his head. "Sounds to me like you don't know your head from your own ass."

"Bribes," Lifeng continued. "Blood money. Maybe you have some regular customers. Rich men, well off. Maybe they have some plans they like to discuss while you turn a deaf ear. Or maybe they come to you with their problems. The type of problems that would get them flogged half to death - or even executed. And maybe you have a way to take care of all that. For the right price, of course." He raised his hands, palms up, in a gesture of conclusion. "That's business and all."

"That's more like a guessing game. And I don't have time for such horseshit." The barkeep leaned over the counter, nearly nose to nose with Lifeng. "Now either pay up or get out."

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what you're hiding."

"I've got nothing to hide." The barkeep jerked a nod at the storage area. "You want to see for yourself? Fine. Be my guest."

Lifeng jumped the counter to take him up on the offer. Wine barrels lined one side of the room, and clay jars in various sizes were stacked wherever they would fit. Even in the low light from the slitted windows, a few of the vessels looked too clean for being buried in dank crannies that had covered their neighbors with a layer of dust. Lifeng had just reached out to unearth one when the air tensed behind him. He ducked and spun, and the barkeep's swung plank smashed harmlessly into a jar. The whole stack crashed down into a pile of pickles and pottery shards as the man reared up for another blow. His swing was wild, his balance poor, and Lifeng took him down with the force of his own momentum. Lifeng planted a heel in the barkeep's back and used his free leg to kick over the suspicious jar. Its lid fell off, spilling a stream of gold and trinkets across the packed dirt floor.

Lifeng straddled the barkeep, pulling his head up with a tight twist of the topknot. He unsheathed his dagger and pressed it to the man's windpipe. Their talk was over. Time to let the weapon speak for itself.

An interminable moment later, the barkeep spoke one strained word. "Afternoon."

The blade sliced across his throat, and a pool of blood soon joined the litter on the ground.

* * *

The mercenaries lounged in plain view, shrugging off the gazes of occasional passersby. They waited as the harsh midday sun deepened to a brilliant gold, as their great and lurking anticipation settled into a keen sense of awareness.

Horse hooves approached from the direction of the high road. An ostentatious carriage rolled into town, guided by a driver with a face of stone and a hard gaze to match. His eyes flicked over the mercenaries with piercing certainty even before they began to draw near. He let his passengers out before riding off to tether the horses.

Six men had stepped out of the carriage, pulling the knives from their belts as they spread into a loose knot. Their heads were covered with securely tied scarves, and their fine robes flared just enough to show off without impeding movement. They regarded Lifeng with a smooth impassiveness that tempted him to smirk in response. A similar handful of fellows had waited with him in the village. The rest were hiding outside. With such an advantage in numbers, this introduction would take longer than the fight itself. Lifeng savored his growing excitement as the mercenaries squared off in kind. No words needed to be spoken. All here were fluent in the language of duels.

Before the bandits' arrival, town had been silent to the point of apparent desertion. Villagers began to emerge, cautiously stepping towards the standoff. Each wielded a scythe or a stick or some other improvised weapon. A young woman carried an apron full of rocks, which she deposited on the ground nearby.

One of those rocks nailed Lifeng in the arm. A follow-up shot nearly grazed him, and he knew that the first had not been a misfire.

An ill feeling began to rise, but Lifeng forced it down with simple logic. If the villagers helped criminals, then they were criminals themselves. And he knew just who he had come here to destroy.

Lifeng rushed forward with his usual yell, and the world became a blur of blades and cacophony.

* * *

The battle roared on as day darkened into evening. More mercenaries had rushed in to help. So had wave after wave of bandits and commoners alike. At the outset, Lifeng had whirled and danced and dueled with his usual speed. Veteran criminals fell to his knives, as did townspeople who threw themselves in his direction. The trained fighters were a welcome challenge, the rest mere fodder. They signaled each clumsy strike, moving with the perceived languor of men fighting underwater.

As the enemy poured forth with no end in sight, Lifeng began to think that he was the one struggling to stay afloat. He found himself losing those signals, eating blows that should have easily missed. He gritted his teeth, enraged at himself for such weakness. Doubt led to hesitation. Hesitation meant death. And Lifeng would be damned if he showed the fear that had started to pool in his stomach.

With a furious cry, Lifeng plunged onward into the enemy mob. When his left arm went numb from a hit to the shoulder, he forced the other to do double duty. And when his knee buckled under a fierce muscle cramp, he feigned a defiant crouch to taunt the encroaching hordes. His name floated through the din, bellowed by a voice he could not place. Lifeng decided it was his own, a mental illusion demanding those reserves of strength that had to be somewhere deep within him. Just had to be, though his shoulders pitched forward and his weapons dragged with sudden weight.

A curtain of arrows whipped past, crumpling Lifeng's assailants. Another coordinated volley drove them back even further. Once again, Lifeng's name echoed from somewhere within the crowd. He risked a glance over his shoulder and saw that it had not been imagined.

More arrows were fired. More men fell. Arms grasped Lifeng from behind, hauling him onto Cao Ren's back. His mouth opened to demand a return to the fight, but it closed without comment as his battle fervor ebbed away. Lifeng's muscles were weak with exhaustion, his torso sore from the impact of untold strikes. His head rang from hurled stones that he had been unable to dodge. Gashes burned all over his body, painfully sticking to his sweat-sodden clothing. Some were oozing the slow warmth of blood.

Nothing was said between them on the way back to the fort. Ren's ragged breathing left no room to talk, and words eluded Lifeng as he drifted in and out of coherence. He habitually took the first shot and had the last word. This time around, none of that seemed to fit.

The medics took charge of Lifeng, barely giving Ren time to set him down. Ren knelt nearby to watch as the bandages and needles were put to work. After a month in close quarters, the man remained a mystery. He rarely drank or feasted, and he abhorred the joys of looting. His troops were bound by rules that would have sent the mercenaries into violent rebellion. Yet they all appeared as content as any of Lifeng's fellows, who lived for a freedom that Ren never seemed to understand.

Lifeng glanced over the broad hewed face that rarely cracked an expression in his presence. What he saw there led him to look again. Ren's eyes were wide and somber, his mouth set in a soft frown. Lifeng had wondered why soldiers followed Ren with such devotion, why he had come to the rescue when their collaboration was long since over. Meeting that thoughtful gaze, he had no need to ask. Only one brief phrase, left unspoken in his weariness.

_Thanks, chief._

* * *

Cao Ren had paid little mind to Lifeng's departure, figuring that yesterday's last words were about his style of farewell. He was playing a board game with Hu Xu when a mercenary dashed into the fort, nearly tripping over the two of them. The fellow threw himself on the ground, gawping like a fish until Ren put two firm hands on his shoulders and ordered him to calm down. He swallowed, then managed to fit words between his gasps for air.

_Village. Bloodbath. First that way._

Ren gathered his men and took off in a hurry, leaving a small group behind to keep watch. He had no concerns about who had struck first, who was to blame for such mayhem. Ren only knew that people were dying to the havoc he swore to destroy, and he would find a way to end it.

He heard the ruckus well before it came into view. The small town was bursting at its walls with miscreants and locals who had swarmed in to defend it. Though most of the mercenaries had retreated, the battle roiled on with bitter fury. Ren and his soldiers charged as tight squads, wresting rifts in the hordes so the others could escape. A warrior bobbed and weaved some distance away, moving with a fluidity that belonged to only one man Ren knew.

Ren spurred his fellows forward as that man ignored his shouts to fall back. And when Lifeng went down, they readied their bows.

The first volley opened a breath of air. The next, a tenuous path. The crowd parted momentarily, framing Lifeng in stark tableau. His back was slumped, his stance lopsided, his right arm cocked to strike as the left hung listless. A round of cover fire, then another, and Ren rushed in for the rescue.

Lifeng had the quick leanness of a weasel, but he felt more like a stout sack of grain after several _li_on Ren's back. After paying his brief respects, Ren could only leave the medics to their expertise as he dragged himself off to sleep. They would close the wounds with ease, but worse hid beneath the surface. Lifeng's eyes were glazed, his skin cast with a strange pallor. Though he hissed with pain at every stitch of the needle, his reactions were only reflexive. His fire had burned out, and Ren doubted that any manner of potions or poultices would bring it back.

When Ren awoke the next day, the lowered heads of the mercenaries told him all he needed to know.

* * *

Cao Ren had no white garb of mourning, no detailed recollection of the funeral rites that had been performed for his father. That was all well and good. Lifeng would have preferred it this way, buried without fuss or ceremony like any other fallen soldier. The mercenaries helped put him to rest, looking on with silent approval during the few niceties that seemed appropriate. Ren washed Lifeng's body, dressed him in a clean uniform, and slipped a coin under his tongue after lowering him into the ground. Lifeng might have laughed at the notion of preparedness for the afterlife, but he would appreciate a token piece of his loot.

The evening meal was cooked and eaten in silence. Ren refused his share, kneeling before his shrine until the night birds awoke and the incense burned away to embers. At daybreak, everyone packed up to leave. The mercenaries headed east while the others marched back north. Hu Xu and his men would be joining up with other friendly settlements. Ren was going home.


	20. Reunion

The road home from Luoyang was a languid stretch of overcast skies, plain scenery, and stopovers too short for sightseeing. A long span of nothing, a reprieve from the formalities that had ruled Cao Chun's life for all too many months. Staring out the window in a comfortable slouch, Chun managed to forget the pile of documents that would await him when he returned.

Imperial university had been a satisfying challenge steeped in its share of frustration. Chun set each word of his verses with a newly learned precision, and he befriended associates who could hold a conversation without the constant air of flaunting their intelligence. Reaching the limits of his note-taking tricks, he hung passages of text around his chambers to be memorized by sheer force of familiarity. When his academic musings tangled into a hopeless knot, he went off to the archery range. Growing up, Chun had suspected that brother Ren got on so well with martial arts because they did not require him to think. He had come to realize that they involved a different sort of thought, one with a way of relaxing his overworked mind. Draw, aim, let fly. Solid stance, strong pull, smooth release. Precision, coordination, a form of meditation in the steady routine.

Chun had just found his stride when a letter summoned him for an examination. Standing alone before a panel of regents, he was grilled about proceedings and etiquette and Confucian lore from morning until the midday hour. Chun dredged up all the obscure detail he could muster, struggling to keep his confidence in response to the uniformly dour tone from his superiors. A short recess, and he was called back in for the verdict.

_You are to leave university in three days' time._

So Chun had been falling behind, just as the nagging voice in his head had insisted when he tried to guess the letter's intent. He blinked back tears as the head regent continued to speak.

_You are then to serve the emperor as Junior Attendant at the Yellow Gates._

Chun's eyes welled up again as he bowed his acceptance, grand and deep and sincere. The prestige of the imperial court. The legacy of his wise and hardworking father. The focus of his ambition from those first school days onward, achieved ahead of schedule. He had made it.

He had arrived.

In more ways than one.

The walls of Qiaocheng approached. Chun's carriage rolled through the west gate, then past the market square where he used to pretend no relation to Ren and cousin Hong when their disputes over snack food turned to wrestling. Then it came to a halt, met by the ageless dignity of the guardian lions. As per his boyhood habits, Chun found himself whispering a greeting on his way into the estate gardens.

A lone man waited among the pink and white spring blossoms, burly and bearded and bronzed by the sun. They shared a stiff bow, two of a kind with their uncovered topknots and subtly adorned robes of crisp blue silk. Season after season apart, now a few steps between them - which, in that first moment, were distant as the imperial palace. Their eyes met with uncertainty as they took each other in.

Cao Ren's face split into a grin, and he reached out to crush Chun in a hearty hug. "Welcome home, brother."

* * *

Cao Chun had fallen out of touch with Ren when they went their separate ways. Mother's letters mentioned that he was looking hale and doing well for himself, and she likely passed along a similar word when brother stopped by for a visit. Yet Chun had none of his own thoughts to add, even after he had made his peace with Ren's decision, and his acceptance had come late enough that he had little idea of where to begin. It would have felt strange to pick up the writing brush as if that rift had never separated them in the first place.

Ren clearly wanted to do just that. Even so, there was a wall between them as they sat down to dinner. They exchanged some stilted pleasantries before Mother asked about work in the capital, and Chun mulled over how to sum up all that had transpired since his last letter home. "It's much like university," he finally said. "Only with more to remember and explain to others. That last part doesn't always go so well."

"What's worse?" Mother asked. "The material, or those you're trying to get it across to?"

"It's difficult to say." Chun took a spoonful of soup. "Lately, I've been handling tax reports, which are long lists of numbers and not much else. They're dull enough to write, let alone to discuss in a meeting. And some of my colleagues are just about useless. I ask for input and get a blank face. I help them rework a rough draft, and they expect me to write their next one from scratch."

Ren quirked a sympathetic brow. "That's about what I used to put you through with my school assignments."

"You weren't quite that bad, and neither is my appointment. Sure, it involves some drudgery. But doesn't anything?" Chun made a sweeping gesture with his free hand, expressing a sense of grandeur as he found the words to explain it. "I feel that I'm part of a great and efficient structure, and every contribution makes a difference. Each ledger I copy, each report I write, is one more piece of knowledge that keeps the system running. With good records, we have a clear picture of our progress. And with that, we ensure that the Empire continues to serve its people."

Mother piped up. "How about that banquet you attended?"

"The palace architecture was incredible. The rest, not so much." Chun paused as the maidservant refilled his tea. "We usher the guests in, then escort them out afterward. Apart from that, there's nothing to do but mind one's manners down to the pickiest detail. I spent most of the evening with my back to the wall and five exact paces between the fellows on either side."

"Sounds tiresome," Ren said.

"It was. I only had a look at the palace in passing. The hall is rich with tapestries and gilded carvings, every sort of bird and beast you can imagine. I couldn't see much of any around the pillar in front of me. And you recall how you enjoyed that coursework on the etiquette of greeting officials."

Ren snorted. "About as much as a kick to the nether regions."

A laugh. "My point exactly. The fancier the cap and the wider the sleeves, the more prestigious the man. And you have about the blink of an eye to know just how prestigious he is. A step too far back, a gaze too high, and you may as well have spit in his face."

"Small wonder master was so keen to beat that into our heads. Imagine going to the capital without knowing the code." Ren shook his head. "It's no different from those secret words we came up with as children."

Chun nodded agreement. Some time ago, he would have dismissed Ren's comment as a lack of respect for decorum. Chun had absorbed every nuance of ministerial behavior, molding his manners with the strictness of his adherence to any other form of protocol. The novelty soon wore off, especially as some colleagues put on a good show of compliance while slacking on their work. Chun came to the conclusion that minutiae were no basis for judgment, a thought that this dinner hour served to reinforce. Ren still stabbed his food and piled on the pickles before taking his first taste, and he had plopped down in a crouch as Chun descended to the exact center of his mat. Yet he sat with a poise of his own, a utilitarian sort of control. Chun had wondered if Ren had faked it long enough to get his freedom, if his bearing were merely part of the fanfare put on for his announcement of leaving home. He had since come to realize that brother had been growing into his true self - ironic as it might be to learn discipline down a disorderly path.

"Did you at least see the emperor?" Mother inquired.

"Only in the most basic sense. He was guarded by rows of attendants on a canopied dais at the other end of the hall. I caught a few glimpses, but nothing more." Emperor Ling's robes surrounded him in thick drapes of brocade, and his face was concealed behind the beaded curtain of his flat-topped hat. Meek amid his finery, he seemed more of a decoration than the embodiment of Heaven's might. "I certainly had no chance to speak with him."

"Well, I wouldn't have expected that much."

"Neither would I. Even so, I thought I could at least pay my respects. Apparently, I have a ways to go before earning that privilege."

"I'm sure you'll earn it sooner rather than later."

"I hope so." Despite the trust of Chun's appointment, several layers of bureaucracy separated him from the man for whom he was sworn to speak. At times, he seemed to be gazing up at a peak with its summit obscured by the clouds. Who knew how to surmount it, and who knew what fortune it held - and the mountain was not about to give up its secrets.

That thought loomed over Chun like its metaphorical image as they continued to chat about life in Luoyang and why it left him no time to seek out prospects for marriage. Eventually he shoved it aside. Work belonged where he had left it. Home was for family, and a greater precipice stood before him here.

"Brother."

Ren turned his head.

"What are your plans for tomorrow?"

A smile. "I was about to ask you the same."

* * *

The brothers met up in the yard for an afternoon of archery. No scores were kept, no challenges proposed, and few words were said. They communicated in an unhurried rhythm of bowstring snaps and the distant percussion of arrows hitting home.

Cao Ren spoke up after Chun peppered the target's center with a series of skillful shots. "You shoot well."

"As do you." Chun moved aside for Ren to take his turn. "As you always have."

Chun had always been the genteel one, from his mellow voice and mannerisms to his knack for proper behavior. He seemed to invent etiquette in the instinctual way that Ren found means to break it, even when he was not acting up at the time. Chun's former struggles at archery involved a delicate sort of hesitance that he had since overcome. His technique had sharpened, and his accuracy reflected it. With some envy at Chun's elegant draw, Ren noted that he was still the better marksman. And inwardly kicked himself over the thought, as this was no time for old insecurities.

"Are you content, brother?"

After their tense farewell and months of silence thereafter, such a question could have been a veiled accusation. Ren heard nothing within it but curiosity.

"I am. My men number in the hundreds. We camp all along the Huai river, welcomed by the townsfolk we serve. That's a point of pride." Ren underscored it with a perfect shot. "Even so, I wonder what I've missed."

"By leaving school?"

A nod. "You've improved your marksmanship while continuing your studies. I can't say I've done similar."

"And I'd say you've learned just as much."

"Perhaps." Ren notched an arrow and let fly, striking the target a finger's width from his last hit. "I've learned the limit to what I can handle myself, even with good men beneath me." After the failure of Yingshang, Ren had returned to slow expansion from familiar territory. Despite the consistent success of more conservative advancement, Ren felt as if he were putting a bandage over a gash. The trouble in Yingshang was borne of a deeper unrest whose solution continued to elude him, and progress somehow twisted the knife blade of guilt attached to his inability to find an answer.

"How about with good men above you?"

Ren considered the question as Chun began another round. He had gone forth without a grand vision in mind, only a means of supporting his venture and trust that it would work out in the end. An optimism borne from the devoted industry of his men, the solace of the land they guarded, and the undeniable certainty that this was his way - wherever it might lead him.

"It depends on the man. And especially on how well we see eye to eye. We may not agree on every detail, but we must stand on common ground."

"I'm sure you've heard of cousin Cao Cao."

"I've read his letters. I've not had an opportunity to meet him."

"I have. You should, too, when he's next in town. The two of you would get along." A glance off into the distance. "You're both making a name for yourself."

"And you're not?"

"I was pulled from university and sent to the imperial palace." Chun fired a direct and powerful shot. "I doubt the same favor would have been shown to a son of some other family."

"I say your ability speaks for itself."

"Cousin said as much, and I ought to believe him. He has an eye for talent and no patience for corrupt men. His first priority in Jinan was to get rid of the ones in his service."

Ren nodded, recalling that particular round of news about Cao's promotion to chancellor. He led with the same pragmatic decision shown on the field of battle, axing useless rules and rites along with the officials who bogged down his government in a similar regard. Chun rambled on about Cao's latest reforms in glowing detail, confirming the impressions Ren had picked up from the tone of his letters. Cao scorned outmoded sensibilities and let his results prove their own merit, and he reveled in the grudging praise earned from those who had once derided him. He kept a constant eye out for opportunity, and a playful wit livened up the wisdom of his words. Ren imagined sitting down with him over a bowl of wine and decided that this next visit could not come soon enough.

As evening approached, they set out to leave. "I'll be meeting some friends in town to share poetry." Chun raised his brows in invitation. "You're welcome to join us."

"Much appreciated, but I'll pass."

Chun laughed. "I see some things never change."

* * *

Cao Ren packed a boxed snack and retrieved Thunder Cloud from the stables. Once eager to break into a gallop across the open fields, the aging horse settled into a trot when allowed to take the lead. The leisurely pace suited them both. Ren had plans to ponder and associates to run them past, but his mind needed a rest before he could know where to begin.

They took their trail into hidden arbors dappled by sunlight and deep jade shadow. A creek led them further on, paved in broad white stones and bladed grass bent flat by the current. It flowed over an outcropping into a pool just as pure, where fish meandered among the rocks on the bottom far below. Ren stripped down and dove in, shuddering at the initial shock of the icy water. He floated on his back as the sun warmed his face and the chill eased off into refreshment. He unbound his hair, letting it fan out behind him in a thick black plume.

Ren climbed out, dried off, dressed himself. He returned to the estate for a long soak in the bath and a pot of tea served along with it. Back in his chambers, an open scroll of silk lay on the bed. No glance at the stamp was needed. Such artful calligraphy served as its own signature.

The words were clear and measured, flowing with the rhythm of footsteps along his woodland path. Shimmering through the mist in Ren's eyes as his heart also swelled to the bursting point.

_He stands beside the river deep  
In verdant shade of forest keep  
As dawn breaks past the distant hills  
The boy looks down the road._

_He walks along the river deep_  
_In verdant shade of forest keep_  
_As noontide shines upon his path_  
_The boy finds his way forth._

_He rides along the river deep  
In verdant shade of forest keep  
As sunset gilds the distant hills  
A man makes his way home._

* * *

The poem is mine, inspired by English translations of period verses.


	21. The best laid plans

The training camp in rural Qiaocheng had grown from shelter taken by the wooded creek to a village of tents in the nearby meadow. Its dwellings were set in even rows, neat as the racked weaponry stationed here and there. Cao Ren smiled, having expected no less from the man in charge. He had sent a simple note of contact about meeting up to discuss future plans. The response was a formal invitation penned with laborious dignity. Its words were plain, its calligraphy square, itself an achievement from a friend who had once cursed in frustration over the most basic glyphs.

When Du Gai pounded him on the shoulder in greeting, Ren playfully thumped him with the scroll. "You could have just paid me a visit."

"I thought you'd be proud of me."

"I already am."

"Even though I haven't given you the grand tour?"

"I like what I've seen so far. I doubt the rest will change my mind."

"Pleasant surprises only - I promise."

"Then I'd better be surprised."

"Come on." Gai smirked. "When's the last time I said something like that and didn't deliver?"

Ren thought of the times when his friend had delivered well beyond expectation, from their first gathering of soldiers to double crossing the bandits who had schemed to kill him. "Point taken."

Back in their days beside the river, Gai's clothing had mostly consisted of patches. He now wore modest robes with a pattern woven into the sash. His chin was smooth, with no trace of the scruff he had been growing when they last met. The spring in his step had mellowed into a level confidence. Yet Gai had the same crooked smile, the same sharp eyes gazing off into the distance. He had always set his sights beyond the horizon, even though ties to home prevented him from wandering far. Gai had jumped at the chance to run this settlement, to work with elite soldiers brought in from other camps. To lead as he could while continuing to care for his family.

Gai led the way past the usual groups taking their turns at weapon maintenance and sparring and archery practice. He paused by a circle of men sitting at makeshift desks with writing brushes in hand. They took down character after character dictated by a fellow who also checked their work with the same patience. Ren wondered who had taught the teacher so well, and the proud light in Gai's eyes answered the question before he had a chance to ask.

Another circle was gathered around a man who had never found his stride in combat. Fei Gong demonstrated suturing on one of the leather models he had devised for instructional purposes. His right hand worked with nimble fluidity. His left was not as able, struggling to keep the flap of his makeshift wound pinched shut.

Gai dropped his voice to a murmur. "That injury of his never healed. But he's a genius when it comes to fixing up others. If I didn't know better, I'd almost think he was a mystic."

Ren arched an amused brow. "Or a Yellow Turban?"

A snort. "Laugh all you want, but I've had a few men suspect that. One of them came up to me all white as the moon. I guess he'd never seen anyone get sewn up before."

Ren gave a nod, thinking that Gong's change of focus must have come as a relief. Gong had always shown a certain hesitance in sparring practice, a docility more suitable for the medic's tent than the field of battle. He now spoke with confidence as he explained his technique.

"So." Gai spread his arms. "What do you think?"

"Can't say I'm surprised. You've always done well at standing in for me."

"What can I tell you? I learned from the best."

A flush touched Ren's face. "I learned from all of you."

"Even Teng?"

"He had his sensible moments."

"Like when he finally decided to quit loafing around and go back to school?"

"Perhaps. But he did bring a few friends to us." One of those friends had been apprenticed to a master marksman. He had beaten Ren in an amicable competition, then shared some tips and teaching advice before moving on to his assigned settlement.

"True. One of those guys really helped me with the writing. He's off right now on a land survey." Gai's head turned toward the south as he continued speaking. "It's going to be perfect. Just like here, only better. And still close to home."

Gai's chin was held high, his gaze full of that old fire that had dimmed under the full realization that the militia's excursions would leave him behind. He had slipped off on infrequent occasion, leaving his small brothers to struggle with their farm chores until he could return for the brunt of the work. Yet his focus also slipped, even through his best efforts to keep a stoic face. Drills became sluggish, formations awkward, orders uninspired, and Gai spent his evenings looking back in the direction of home. Ren had once laid a hand on his shoulder and almost received a punch along with the testy insistence that nothing was wrong, he was merely tired, who could get a decent night's sleep on this rocky ground anyhow?

After the end of that trip, Ren had put Gai in charge of the operations back in Qiaocheng. Gai had found himself here once again, grounded and competent and moving forward in his own way. He belonged. Now Ren could only hope that belonging was more a question of heart than of geography.

"What if you made your home elsewhere?"

Gai cocked his head in puzzlement.

"How would you like to bring your family to Luoyang?"

Silence, awaiting an explanation.

"Cousin Cao Cao is raising an army. You're well aware of the corruption we fought in towns and villages. As I hear it, the same is happening in the capital."

Gai furrowed his brow. "So you want to gather us up and ship us off?"

"I want to lead you there."

"All of us?"

"That's my plan."

"Some plan." Gai shook his head. "What about this place? What about my neighbors? If we just pick up and leave, it's like we never helped to begin with."

"That's not true." Ren immediately regretted the retort, aware that Gai had a point. They knew how to keep order with their presence. No one had figured out how the same could be ensured in their absence.

"You damn well know it is. Why else did you start this up in the first place?"

"To make a difference, and you damn well know that too." Ren met Gai's narrowed eyes as he planned his next words. "We took up arms to fill a void that the Empire left behind. We've accomplished much without its sanction, but we can only go so far. Set the government in order, and our work is done. Let it rot, and we may as well be bailing out a leaky boat."

"So you're just going to let it sink in the meantime?"

"No." Ren paused, swallowing before he spoke. "I'm leaving it to you."

Gai began to respond. Ren held up a hand to silence him.

"It pains me to lose your leadership, but I see no other way. Yes, the Empire needs good men." Ren gripped Gai's shoulder. "Your home needs you more."

Gai's mouth was slack, his eyes wide and bright.

"I entrust Qiaocheng to you and your fellows. I only ask that you help me to gather more in their stead."

Several blinks. "That's all?"

"If you say so. I'll need significant numbers that can be easily trained to a reasonable standard of behavior."

"Still not a problem." Gai cracked his knuckles. "And you will be surprised this time around."

Ren grinned. "Then I'll try not to expect too much. I'd hate to ruin your fun."

Gai socked him, and they wandered off to share the wine that Ren had brought along.


	22. Warlord

Cao Ren waited in his chambers, glancing over his militia's records without paying any real attention. His hair and beard were oiled, his formal robes carefully arranged to avoid creasing. His small folded cap was tied under his chin, still a discomfort though he had received it a month prior. Chun, who had taken the rites of manhood alongside him, insisted that Ren would have been used to the cord by now if he stopped leaving his topknot bare whenever there were no guests around to impress.

Such a guest was now on his way, set to make or break him.

The letter had arrived early, Du Gai's recruits later than expected. Ren had shrugged off his friend's apologies and thrown himself into training. The able troops had fallen in line. The worst of the bunch were barely passable on a good day. Ren would have ordinarily banished them for misbehavior. Without any other choice, he resorted to harsher measures when the usual castigation refused to sink in. Ren was running short on time to prepare for service, and this meeting had almost come too soon as well.

Chimes summoned Ren to the dining hall. He slowed his stride to suit the drape of his heavy skirts, going over a proper introduction along the way.

The afternoon sun slanted low and golden through the carved windows lining the far wall. Two places had been set across from each other in the center of the table. The food and condiments were laid out, the tea poured and steaming in its mugs. Neither servant nor visitor could be seen in the vast chamber.

"As summer's bloom meets autumn frost."

Ren glanced back over his shoulder in the direction of that commanding and resonant voice. He glimpsed an odd shadow in a distant corner of the room.

"So it seems our paths have crossed."

Cao Cao stepped forth as Ren wondered whether or not he should bow. At last he did, more awkwardly than he had intended.

"Cousin Zixiao." Cao returned the gesture with ease. "We meet at last."

* * *

They sat and ate in silence. Cao Cao made no move to talk, and Ren wondered if that was another attempt to throw him off guard. He was the host, he owed hospitality, and he felt ever more impolite as conversational gambits continued to elude him. His guest did not seem to be perturbed. Cao was a man of average height and ordinary build, with strong features carved by maturity. Even as he relaxed over a meal, his expression radiated an intensity that further intimidated Ren's attempts to speak.

Ren eventually chose the most straightforward thought on his mind. "Please forgive me. I have no words to follow up such a greeting."

"I hadn't expected you to."

"Fair enough, considering that I hadn't expected to be caught unaware in my own house."

Cao laughed. "Why waste a good surprise?"

A smile. "From what I've heard of you, I suppose it shouldn't have come as a shock."

"Then it seems we've been acquainted in some regard." Cao took a sip of tea. "Zihe has said much about you as well."

Ren awaited an elaboration. Cao's eyes settled on him with piercing certainty, sharp as the precise points of his mustache and beard.

"Your manners were boorish, your studies an inconvenience to be shirked off at first opportunity. You put much effort toward worming your way out of punishment and very little toward behaving properly in the first place."

An icicle stabbed Ren in the gut. His face burned with fury at Chun's indiscretion, with shame over his immutable past. He thought of disclaiming himself with a comment on how he had struggled to shed that unruly skin of his youth. Under such keen scrutiny, he could only manage a simple assent.

"Every word of that is true."

They held their shared gaze as explanations continued to sit on the tip of Ren's tongue. Cao's eyes crinkled at the corners as his mouth curled up into a grin. He raised his brows, clearly amused at Ren's discomfort.

"A man after my own heart, I see."

Ren had no words as Cao helped himself to another serving of pickles.

"I had little use for such rot myself. Ah, the excuses I made and the floggings I bore." An amused snort. "I only developed an appreciation for poetry when no one was actively bludgeoning me with it."

Ren laughed. "You're far ahead of me in that regard."

"Don't concern yourself. I'm sure you'll get there as well."

They relaxed into commiseration, into wild and wayward tales that only added to Cao's mystique. He was said to be a master of rule and discipline, and his bearing reflected every letter of some strict and unspoken law. Yet his own youthful dalliances brought an embarrassed heat to Ren's face, tempered with the refreshing certainty that his much less colorful past was just as dead and buried.

"Enough of that for now." Cao waved a dismissive hand. "Tell me about these troops of yours. How many will you be bringing into my service?"

"Five hundred all told."

"And all of your best leaders?"

"None of them."

Cao nearly dropped his chopsticks. He furrowed his brow as Ren savored a thrill of satisfaction at cracking his composed shell.

"None of them?" Cao repeated.

"My subordinates need to remain where they currently are, doing what they've been trained to do best. Suppressing lawbreakers. Keeping the peace. Gathering other men to serve beneath them. If I were to take them with me, that whole structure would vanish."

"And how can you be certain that it won't do the same without you in charge?"

"I have given my men the tools to lead. They have rewarded me with dependability by putting such to good use." Ren thought of the Yellow Turbans, who had wreaked such havoc on the Empire and then scattered into disorganized remnants when their supreme commanders were killed in the rebellion. "We are servants to a cause, not a cult of personality."

Cao sipped his tea, waiting for Ren to continue.

"Furthermore, this better prepares me for service. I once had the luxury of choosing my men. Now I'm shaping up the troops they've sent in their place. A supreme commander would need me to make do with whomever I'd been assigned. I saw no harm in starting early."

"Very good." Cao quirked a brow. "I imagine you must be wearing out the bastinado on such a ragtag crew."

"Not quite." Ren handed over a scroll with the hierarchy of punishments he had developed, with the aforementioned bamboo cane reserved for the worst infractions. Cao gave it a brief glance and a slight nod of approval.

"There are times when nothing else will do," Ren explained. "Still, I seek to rule by respect rather than fear."

"What's the difference?"

Ren began to flippantly respond that the answer ought to be obvious. He held back when Cao's expression showed that he was asking a serious question.

"Sometimes there is none. Proper behavior may very well be motivated by dread of the consequences for misconduct. Even so, there are noted distinctions." Ren took a long swallow of tea, sorting out his next words. "Respect is earned. Fear is demanded. Respect is mutual. Fear is authoritative. I want my troops to take pride in their service, in their part of a force greater than any of us. Such spirit is cultivated within a man, not beaten into him from without."

"Sounds idealistic."

"Perhaps, but it's proved its worth in practice."

"Only to a point."

"A point I never expected to reach when I asked my friends to accompany me on patrol."

"But what will you do beyond that?"

"Whatever is necessary."

They regarded each other in a silent test that Ren could only trust that he was passing. His road had been marked with rigors, with signposts clear as their engraved memories. A mere slip of a farmer's son trembling as a noose of bandits tightened around him. The cold steel of his blade and the colder eyes it extinguished. A village rising up in the defense of criminals, and the carried weight of a dying mercenary who had riled it to arms. Each faced, each surmounted, each with more obligations to follow - though some were lesser evils for the sake of a greater good.

"Easier said than done, especially from your point of view. You may have seen combat. You have not seen war."

Ren only nodded in reverence of the scope and grandeur glimpsed through letters and essays and distant memories of Father's cavalry. There was fulfillment in military leadership, a sense of ultimate purpose that Ren had never received from his best schoolwork. Neat camps, crisp uniforms, honed weapons. Flawless drills from a squad that had once floundered over the basics. The rush of a front line charge, the vivacious pride that swelled in his chest as his men raised their voices in a rousing cheer. And the grave confidence of persevering, of enduring, of hardening oneself against the toll of bloodshed. Of confronting the beast to wrest victory from its great and gnashing jaws.

"Even so, I have no doubts in your preparation. This venture of yours is remarkable. It was begun in secret, yet borne of duty. Beholden to no authority, yet carried forth with strict order. And with you at its forefront, locking horns with each obstacle that reared its head in your path. Like an ox, some might say, wresting his plow through the rock and the mire as the chill rains of spring lash down upon him."

Ren flushed, knowing the exact source of that analogy. Chun used to claim that he was all bulk and no brains, only spurred out of apathy by a hearty meal and the sting of a switch. The flip side of this former insult made it clear just how brother had spoken of him, which was far more meaningful than odd mentions of long past trivia.

Cao glanced at the scrolls that Ren had set on the table nearby. "Are these your records?"

A nod.

"I have no need to review them."

Cao stood, folding his hands together. Ren arose with the same gesture.

"Cousin."

Ren's heart quickened.

"I am honored to invite you into my service."

"And I am equally honored to accept."

"Good." Cao gave an authoritative nod. "Then we march in three days' time."

Another challenge boldly met. "Why not tomorrow?"

Cao smiled. "If you insist."


	23. Calm before the storm

The night air had stilled its restless breeze to weigh thick and humid within the house. Lightning flashed dim over the eastern hills, followed by the distant rumbles of thunder. Cao Chun paced the perimeter of his study, stoking the braziers with fresh heaps of fragrant kindling. Wood into fire, divine heat against the damp of the coming storm.

There had been portents, low ripples of dissonance through the rhythms of imperial business. They were shrugged off and buried beneath the usual stiff pleasantries, dismissed as empty gossip for equally vacuous minds. Then the facade had burst open as those bruised and swollen clouds would soon break over the horizon. The emperor dead, and a child placed upon his throne. Fierce troops of Liang running rampant over the capital. Their bulwark of a leader, a wanton brute named Dong Zhuo, with a brandished sword in one hand and the puppet strings of the Empire in the other. Luoyang in flames, in plunder and ruin, and the courts packed off far to the west and the mountainous sanctuary of Chang'an. Several days' journey with little respite for meals or sleep or other forms of relief, and without much succor to be had at its end.

Chun had taken shelter in the ignorance of propriety, in knowing his place and staying well within its boundaries. He was compliant, circumspect, a cog in the great machine engineered to uphold the glory of the Han for a thousand years to come. The machine now lay in pieces, shattered by a tyrant's fury, and a patchwork alliance of military men had stitched itself together from all corners of the land to restore it.

Among those men was Cao Cao. And in Cao's service, brother Ren.

Chun wondered if he ought to have followed them. The cap of adulthood had awarded him the full honors of Father's military title and a barrage of training to bring him up to its standards. He was a colonel now, a leader of elite cavalry with nowhere to ride. Only a constant routine of drills and formality, patrols carried out with a solemn gaze to the east. They were sworn to defend the capital, wherever it might reside, but their hearts remained with the wreckage of Luoyang. Perhaps their true duty would be to seize it back.

Perhaps not. The capital was here in Chang'an, and thus would Chun also remain. He was a man of the book, just as brother had bound himself to the blade, and each was ordained to complement the other. The Han had not been destroyed. It was merely displaced. Its seeds would take root where they had fallen, nourished and tended by the devotion of its ministers. One hand to reclaim, the other to rebuild, and the Empire would spread its glorious wings once again.

Chun lit a censer and brought it into the courtyard. He settled to his knees, closed his eyes, bowed his head. He remained there in perfect quiescence as the wind swirled high to rustle his silks, as the first drops of rain touched the finely paved flagstone, as the sky opened to receive his offering.

_May the sword reap the blight and the wither.  
May the flame raze the remnants to earth.  
May the storm deluge the dry ashes.  
May the green of spring rise forth._

* * *

Twice Cao Ren had refused the offered flask of wine. At last he resigned himself to accept it, only to receive a slap on the back that nearly had him choking on the first mouthful.

Xiahou Yuan flashed a wide grin, taking a long swig of his own before lounging back beside the fire. "About time you decided to relax."

"I've been trying to do so since I arrived."

"Yeah, and don't we all know it. Nice to see some improvement."

Ren smiled wryly. "I suppose, if that's the way you insist on putting it."

Cousin Yuan had marched with Cao Cao since unrest first began to roil the capital. He was broad of frame and brash of demeanor, with a full beard and a spirited gaze beneath thick winged brows. Yuan poked his head into any business that struck his fancy, and he had taken on Ren as somewhat of a personal project. Initially put off by such outgoing candor, Ren was quickly growing to appreciate the company. Yuan prided himself on finding common ground, even if it was more akin to flattening a spot in the meadow by tripping over his own lack of decorum. His drills were energetic, his jibes good-natured, his rough and casual words laced with keen wit. Ren could think of far worse veterans to serve as a mentor.

Cao Hong swaggered over to join them. "Well, I'll be damned. Look who finally pulled that halberd out of his crack. How many oxen did it take?"

Ren gave a nod at Yuan. "Just that one."

Ren and Hong had never been truly close. Their boyhood friendship was borne more of proximity than affinity, a workable alternative to solitary boredom and less desirable options for company. They had fallen out of touch without seeking to regain it, and Hong's appearance at camp had come as a shock. _I got myself an appointment_, he had boasted. _Worked some family connections. You should have done that yourself instead of pissing around with a bunch of peasants._

At first Ren had regarded Hong with skepticism, annoyed at his apparent disdain for the value of practical experience. A quick hand up to the top taught nothing of the shared rigors which forged bonds between leader and men, nor the means of earning respect without first being entitled to it. Yet Hong's practices were compliant enough, run with reasonable efficiency, and Ren began to admit that his authority might have a stronger foundation than mere dealmaking.

They passed the wine in relative silence, looking over the vast allied encampment in the plain below. Long rows of tents shone in the moonlight, punctuated by the occasional campfire. Banners waved tall and proud in the gentle breeze. More armies were arriving, with horsemen in legion and great grids of infantry. Full fleets of men, proverbial ships in the night, and Cao Cao's settlement was a rowboat in comparison.

Ren surveyed the forces before him, wondering what small percentage was comprised by their own. "Surprising, is it not? I expected us to be more numerous."

"Why's that?" Yuan asked.

"Our lord has the presence of a much greater leader." Cao Cao came across as a man with ten thousand on each arm, a multitude more at his front, and a signal to drop them all to their knees in unison. Ren had expected to be a tile on a wall rather than the cornerstone of a foundation. He would be key to this new army from its outset, a prospect both exhilarating and terrifying in equal measures.

"Oh, he's great, all right. He's just getting started is all." Yuan jerked a nod across the campfire. "But I get what you're saying. He talks a good game, just like our cousin over there."

Hong shrugged. "Nothing wrong with that as long as you're more than just talk."

Ren met his eyes, catching a flicker of the one memory that Hong refused to brag about. Months prior, Cao Cao had suffered a crushing defeat. His forces had been routed, the enemy hot on his tail. When Cao's horse fell, Hong handed over his own to flee on foot behind him. Ren had only heard the story secondhand, a camp legend of surprising authenticity, and Hong gave a humble bow of the head when he went to offer his esteem. No elaboration, no embellishment, only the most minimal form of acquiescence. _I just did my duty, just like anybody else._

"Speaking of which." Yuan cast his gaze to a nearby clearing where a group of women were performing the flute and zither. Their sleeves were flowing, their curves lushly accentuated, their necklines open to a brazen depth. "How many of those ladies did you say you had at once?"

Hong gave a self-satisfied smirk. "Two."

"Amateur." Yuan favored Ren with a nudge. "Bet you can do better in your sleep."

"I'd rather decline." The courtesans were young of age and smooth of skin, clad in fine and colorful silks. Yet they called to mind the worn face of Gai's mother and the eyes of small children without claim to their fathers' birthright. Those eyes would surely weigh upon him, overwhelming any brief pleasure to be bought amidst the grim strain of impending war.

"A prude, huh? You'll loosen up. Just wait till old Righty gets tiresome."

Hong chimed in. "And Lefty can't fool you forever."

Ren stood up, turning toward his tent. "It seems I'm overdue to take my leave."

"You and that fancy talk." Yuan shook his head, ticking his tongue in disapproval. "Guess we'll put that on the list as well."

A snort. "Thanks for the concern, cousin."

"Don't sweat it."

* * *

The poem is mine.

I recently came across an English translation of Cao Chun's Sanguozhi and a recounting of Cao Cao's earliest recruitment campaigns as detailed in Rafe de Crespigny's new biography. Strictly interpreted, they contradict some of the guesswork and decisions behind this narrative. Various earlier chapters have been edited to improve rough prose and reconcile those records with the dramatic liberties taken here.


	24. To battle

The strident call of the war horn roused Cao Ren from slumber. He took a moment to kneel on his bedroll, trusting that his simple thoughts would suffice for a prayer not covered by ordinary tradition. The allied forces spreading out and striking forth, all clashing swords and flying arrows and thunderous waves of cavalry. A decisive conflict, a swift victory. A crippling blow into onward momentum to crush the awaiting behemoth.

Breakfast was taken by torchlight in the dim and distant dawn. Cao Hong tried to break the silence with an occasional dig, but no one saw fit to bite back. Even Xiahou Yuan, who took a certain pride in some concept of winning such altercations, only responded with a sidelong glare and a firm set to his mouth. A solemnity lay over their settlement, still and tangible as the cool mists of daybreak. Its presence was akin to some unspoken rite, only to be dispelled with the rising sun and the mounting activity of camp springing to life around them.

Ren had worn his armor in practice, accustoming himself to the heft of its bronze scales and padded skirts, but the dressing process had previously been a utilitarian affair. The bearer now assisted him with ceremonial care, bowing to the floor to present the plumed helmet. Ren lifted it high before placing it on his own head, almost as if receiving his cap all over again. He was an official now - a major with separate command - and this new honor burned bright within him as the helmet was secured over the leather hood protecting his topknot.

His troops awaited at the staging grounds, upright as the flags held vertical at each corner of their array. Yuan's soldiers were also well organized, though looking around with restless anticipation. Hong's randomly milled about, and some stragglers trickled in with a yawn. Ren hid a displeased snort, having cured his men of such carelessness early on. He had never sought their friendship, only their dedication, and it was clear in their gaze as he walked his warhorse before them. They were all forged in the same crucible, tempered into a single blade. Recruits into soldiers, a fledgling leader into a newly minted professional. Ren caught a distant glimpse of some other army, chariots flanked by vast formations of infantry. He dared to see a hint of its grandeur in his own.

The drums began to pound. Cao Cao's forces, several thousand strong, snapped to strict attention. Ren drew himself up on his mount. He addressed his troops in a deep and booming voice, each line rewarded with a rousing cheer.

"Today we smash the grip of tyranny!"

"Today we revive the order of Heaven!"

"We ride forth as one! The traitors will fall! The Empire will rise once again!"

One, two, three coordinated upthrusts of weaponry in response. "Hai! Hai! Hai!"

Ren turned, eliciting a whinny with a light snap of the reins, and led his men onward into the burgeoning day.

* * *

**Epilogue**

The allied coalition defeated Dong Zhuo in the following spring. He retreated to Chang'an, and was betrayed and killed by his sworn son Lu Bu.

Cao Ren continued to serve Cao Cao for over thirty years, with consistent success in a variety of campaigns and several notable accomplishments. He defeated Liu Bei during the campaign of Guan Du, held off Zhou Yu for more than a year while isolated at Jiangling, and defended the flooded stronghold of Fan against Guan Yu for three months at a severe disadvantage of manpower. During the siege of Jiangling, Ren charged twice into enemy hordes to rescue a minor subordinate and his troops. At the time of his death in 223, he held two of the highest titles in Wei's army.

Cao Chun joined Cao Cao as an adviser, then went on to lead elite cavalry. He played a key role in the defeat of Yuan Tan, captured Liu Bei's daughters at Changban Slope, and aided in the victory at White Wolf Mountain. He died in 210.


End file.
